


Take These Chances (place them in a box until a quieter time)

by Mildly_Maddy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hiatus fic, M/M, No baby, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Work In Progress, basically hug porn, no girlfriends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-06-06 04:05:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6737518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildly_Maddy/pseuds/Mildly_Maddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“C'mon, Payno,” Louis said, shoving Liam's shoulder in a display of male gruffness that didn't ring remotely true. “Reckon we should be sick of each other by now.” </p><p>“Never,” Liam said instantly, and Louis felt his heart ache. He'd always suspected it'd be hard, saying goodbye to Liam, but he hadn't realized it'd be this fucking painful.</p><p> </p><p>Hiatus long slow burn fic, featuring many, <em>many</em> hugs, a lot of wasted opportunities, silly boys unable to face their feelings, and Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to the lovely [Randominity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Randominity/pseuds/Randominity) for the betaing and enthusiastic cheering along! <3
> 
> While this is a WIP, 9 out of 14 chapters are already written and the rest is thoroughly outlined.

# CHAPTER ONE

  
  


“Well, I guess that's it.”

They were standing in a tight circle in the middle of the car park, hands linked, heads drawn together. It felt like the last moments before a show, and Louis thought that was really unfair, that an end should feel so much like a beginning.

“I can't believe how much I'm gonna miss you wankers,” Niall said, clearing his throat.

Harry ruffled Niall’s hair, but the redness in his own eyes wasn't fooling anyone.

“We still have that holiday to plan,” Liam said, voice falsely cheerful. He’d brought it up in too many interviews to be counted, but he still didn’t seem to believe it would actually happen.

“First thing on my schedule,” Louis said firmly, hand clenching around Liam's. He had no intention of taking care of it, but he'd be damned before he admitted Liam's concerns may be justified.

“Y'know... I think I could use a hug,” Harry said, and the words were barely out before Niall had broken the circle and wrapped his arms around Harry's back in what looked like a death grip. Liam turned to Louis with a soft smile, and Louis went willingly, letting Liam pull him closer and wrapping his own arms around Liam’s waist.

They slotted together so nicely, was the thing. Sure, Louis had to tip his chin up a little to rest it on Liam's shoulder, but that also meant Liam had to hunch down, and it always felt really nice, Liam wrapping himself around Louis like some kind of protective blanket. Their hugs made Louis feel small, and while usually that feeling would have Louis be even louder and more obnoxious to make up for his size, with Liam it just… made him feel safe. Louis often hoped that, should Liam ever acquire mind reading powers for one reason or another, he’d let Louis know _before_ they hugged again; things might get awkward otherwise.

“Quit hogging each other,” Harry teased, voice a little raw, and Louis let himself be engulfed into Harry’s long arms. It was nice, to have a proper hug without twenty thousand people freaking out about it. It was a lot quieter, for a start.

Then it was Niall’s turn, and while he pressed his cold nose against Louis's neck like a dog, laughing, Louis was sure he could feel a few tears sliding down to the hollow of his shoulder.

“Alright!” Harry said, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand and clearing his throat. “I'm gonna miss my flight.”

“Fuck, yeah, me too,” Niall said.

They both wavered, then set off for their respective rides without a backward glance, as if they knew they'd never be able to leave otherwise. 

Louis looked sideways at Liam, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He also had a plane to catch, but he wasn't that pent up about missing it.

Liam didn't seem to be in a hurry, either.

“I fucking hate goodbyes,” Louis finally said, and he reached out for Liam at the same time Liam reached out for him, both of them falling into each other's arms with a clash of chests. Louis fisted his hand around Liam's coat, pressing his face against Liam's neck. It was warm, and smelt like sweat and cologne and that elusive smell that was just Liam, and Louis breathed it in like it was the last time he'd ever be able to do so.

Liam's arms wrapped themselves tightly around Louis's back, tugging him upwards till Louis was almost standing on tiptoes, and Liam was going to have to be the one to break this up because Louis was never, ever letting go.

“I don't want to let go,” Liam mumbled against Louis's shoulder as if on cue. 

Louis smiled into Liam’s coat, then took a lick at Liam’s neck, making him splutter and take a step back. Liam was smiling, but the familiar crinkle was missing from his eyes.

“C'mon, Payno,” Louis said, shoving Liam's shoulder in a display of male gruffness that didn't ring remotely true. “Reckon we should be sick of each other by now.” 

“Never,” Liam said instantly, and Louis felt his heart ache. He'd always suspected it'd be hard, saying goodbye to Liam, but he hadn't realized it'd be this fucking painful. Right then he'd have happily taken two more weeks of mind numbing promo if it meant seeing Liam a bit longer.

“I should go,” Liam eventually said. “I promised my mum I'd go straight home. I think she doesn't believe the break is a real thing,” he said with an embarrassed smile. 

Louis grinned back. “Can't let Karen down, Payno. I'll see you around, right?”

Liam nodded, then hugged Louis again, just a second-long embrace, before striding to the car that was waiting for him.

Louis remained standing in the middle of the car park for a while longer, hands shoved deep in his pockets to protect them from the cold. And if he had to blink back a few tears, surely it was only because of the bitter wind in his face.

\--

He missed his plane by ten minutes and sat in the first class lounge waiting for the next one, browsing through his phone gallery to pass the time. A few pictures of fans, his sisters, Lux, some friends and Harry and Niall were buried amid the endless pictures he'd taken of Liam, and the selfies they'd taken together, whether it was on stage, backstage, or the ones they'd snapped on their rare days off. There were also a few they'd taken in their hotel rooms, giggly after too many drinks, pressing sloppy kisses to each other's cheeks or grinning at each other like they’d already forgotten about the camera; and in the middle of it all, a photo of Liam sleeping, a soft smile on his lips, curled up against Louis's side.

Louis felt his throat go tight and opened a new text message. 

_Want me to come to dinner next week? Just to make sure your mum hasn't locked you up. Public service sorta thing._

He was dropping his bag on his bed, exhausted and cranky from the flight and the Londonian traffic jams, by the time Liam's reply popped up with a cheerful ding.

_Pleeeeease mum wont stop cryinng u have to save mee._

Louis opened every curtain and every shutter around his flat, pulled the living room glass doors wide open to let some fresh air in despite the harsh January cold, emptied his fridge of all the food that had rotten during his time away, and made himself some tea, idly looking at a Chinese takeaway menu. His flat was big and empty and he'd never had the time to turn it into a home, but it didn't seem so bad after all, not with the promise of Liam's dopey smile back within arm's reach one short week away.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

# CHAPTER TWO

  
  


The following Wednesday found him standing in front of Liam's door, all the way in Wolverhampton, with a carrier bag on one shoulder and a pack of beers in his hand. He could only stay for a few hours, on his way back home for the first of many family events, but a few hours were still miles better than nothing, he reckoned.

He grinned when the familiar mad barking of Liam's dog answered the ringing of the bell. The sound of claws on floorboards got louder and louder and the door shook as Watson slammed into it, making Louis take a step back.

“You dummy… Sit still! Sit!”

Louis's grin only got wider as the door opened on a struggling Liam, one leg outstretched in an attempt at keeping Watson from bounding outside. Watson only barked louder when he saw Louis, desperately trying to wriggle his way under Liam's leg.

“Damnit! Alright, alright! If you quiet down I'll give you some meat,” Liam said, throwing his hands in the air.

The effect was instantaneous. Watson stopped barking and trotted to the kitchen without a second look at Louis.

“You traitor!” Louis shouted after him.

“Oh, don't. He'll feel bad and come back.”

Louis finally looked at Liam proper, and let his smile turn fond. Liam was in plain jeans and a white tank top, which was usually a rather deadly combination on him but right then was completely offset by the stupid ‘Kiss the Cook!’ apron that was covering most of him. His hair was less gelled up than on official outings, his stubble had turned back into a proper beard, and his brown eyes were crinkled at the corners with a mirth that made Louis’s heart skip a beat or two.

“I’m making burgers,” Liam said brightly, as if the all pervading smell of cooked beef and the burger flipper in his right hand weren’t clue enough.

“Hm, then I'm staying,” Louis said, squeezing past Liam and dropping his bag at the foot of the stairs.

“Where did you park your car?” Liam asked, looking at his empty driveway with a puzzled expression.

“Got someone to drive me. Wanted to be able to drink. They'll come back to pick me up.”

Louis shook his coat off and headed straight for the kitchen, beers still clutched in his hand. Watson was sitting obediently by the cooker, melancholy eyes turned up to the pan in which a burger was still frying.

He felt Liam's presence behind him a split second before strong arms wrapped around him, pressing him back into Liam's chest in a death grip.

“I missed you,” Liam said, hooking his chin over Louis's shoulder, both of them staring at Watson, who stared back with his best puppy eyes.

“It's only been a week,” Louis teased, jumping away when Liam pinched his side. “None of that, Payno, or I'm leaving and I'm taking the beer with me!”

“As if you'd pass up food.” Liam took the pan off the fire and busied himself in the fridge, getting some uncooked meat for Watson, who barked his appreciation. “There you go, you big lump,” Liam said, looking unbearably fond. It was all Louis could do not to throw something at his head, but being jealous of a dog would be pretty pathetic, even for him.

“So!” he said instead, clapping his hands. “When do we eat?”

\--

“That’s it, I'm full.”

Louis pushed his empty plate on the coffee table and flopped back on the couch, loose limbed and content. There was nothing like a belly full of beer and greasy meat to feel at peace with the world, he'd always thought.

“Are you sure?” Liam said, gathering the plates and standing up. He looked down at Louis with a fond smile. Not quite as fond as the one he'd directed at his dog, but fond enough. “I've made chocolate pudding for dessert. And I bought whipped cream.”

Louis grinned. “If I didn't know better, Payne, I'd think you were trying to seduce me.”

He didn’t know what kind of answer he’d been expecting, but Liam's pinkening cheeks and his hasty retreat to the kitchen were better than anything he could have aimed for. Louis closed his eyes with a smug smile, letting himself be lulled to a half-sleep by the sound of Liam softly singing as he got the dessert ready.

\--

He felt much less smug after two pieces of cake and an entire can of whipped cream, slumped down against Liam's side like a rag doll.

“Whyyy did you give me cake? I'm _this close_ to turning into Mr Creosotes,” he moaned, looking up at Liam with pitiful eyes, or at least that was the intended effect.

“Well that's a lovely mental image,” Liam said, but he wrapped his arm around Louis's back and gently rested a hand on Louis's taut belly.

Louis allowed himself a small smile and covered Liam's hand with his own. “I'll never be able to get through your front door. I'm gonna have to stay here.”

“I wouldn't mind,” Liam said, so softly Louis almost missed it. He slipped his free arm around Liam's waist and squeezed.

Truth be told, he wouldn't have minded being stuck at Liam's, either. He'd thought an evening would be plenty, but mostly it had only served to remind him how much he missed seeing Liam every day. He'd already called the car company twice to postpone his pick up.

“I know you wouldn't,” he said, letting his eyes fall shut. Liam had always been so comfortable. And warm. The man was always so bloody warm.

He knew he couldn't stay. They'd still been on promo duty in December and he'd only spent two days back home, just enough time to blow his candles and put his presents under the tree. He owed a proper visit to his mum. Needed it, too.

“D'you have to go right now?” Liam asked, hooking his foot over Louis's ankle.

Louis glanced down at his watch. It was already 9pm. The girls were probably waiting up for him. “I can stay a bit longer.”

“Good,” Liam said, and started stroking Louis's hair.

\--

“You do realize my mom has probably already cooked up a storm, right?” Louis teased an hour later, as Liam pressed a tupperware of pudding in his hands.

“I can't keep it. I'll eat it all. I'm already getting flabby,” Liam said, looking genuinely worried.

Louis rolled his eyes. Liam was as fit as ever, but he knew saying it wouldn't change Liam's resolve, so he bent down and stuffed the tupperware into his bag. He had barely straightened back up when he found himself engulfed into Liam's arms. He closed his eyes and slipped his arms around Liam's back, letting himself bask in the warmth and love for a little while.

Every hug they shared lately reminded Louis of that final hug in Sheffield, when everything else around them, including the thousands of screaming, crying fans, had ceased to matter for a few seconds. It had only been Liam and him in that moment, an anchor in time where it wasn't even about the band, but about their friendship and every step they'd taken together to get to that place. Since the hiatus had started, reminding himself of those things felt more crucial than ever, and Louis found himself clinging to Liam’s back a little tighter, smiling when he felt Liam tighten his own grip in return.

“Thanks for coming,” Liam mumbled against Louis's shoulder, as if there'd ever been any possibility of Louis turning the invitation down.

Louis snorted, because that was the only reaction such a preposterous comment deserved, really, Liam chuckled, and Watson whined, flopping down on the floor in front of the door as if to prevent Louis from leaving, which considering Watson’s size was a pretty foolproof plan.

“We'll see each other again soon,” Louis said, as much for himself as for Liam. He straightened up ever so slightly and, on impulse, pressed his lips to the corner of Liam’s mouth, keeping them there for a few long seconds, holding his breath in without even realizing it. He wouldn’t have been able to explain the gesture, but it felt right, a silent reassurance that they would not drift apart, that they were too strong for time and distance to erode their friendship in any way.

At least that had been the theory. But somehow when he finally leaned back enough to look into Liam’s eyes, far from feeling at peace, Louis found himself breathless, heartbeat frantic and hard against his ribcage. Liam’s bewildered look probably mirrored his own, eyes drifting down to Louis’s lips and coming back up to his eyes before Liam darted down, reciprocating the gesture and pressing his own lips to the corner of Louis’s mouth before straightening back up.

They looked at each other in silence, the air around them heavy with anticipation.

“Lou…” Liam whispered, one hand coming up to softly brush against Louis’s cheek. His eyes darted down to Louis’s lips again, and Louis held his breath, body tense and poised, on the verge of breaking.

The honk of a car made them spring away from each other as if burnt.

“That’ll be my ride!” Louis said, much too loud, bending down to grab the strap of his bag. His cheeks were burning hot and he could only hope they weren’t actually flushed red. He glanced up at Liam, but Liam wasn’t looking at him, eyes cast downwards, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “I’ll just go, then,” Louis added. The air was still thick between them, and there was an uneasiness in Louis’s stomach that hadn’t been there when Liam’s arms were wrapped around his body. He frowned. The hug had been intended to make things right, to let them part on a high, but it felt like everything had gone arse over tit in the span of a few seconds, and Louis had no idea how to fix things a second time.

He took a step forward, then another, until he was once again invading Liam’s space. “Hey, Payno,” he said softly, reaching up to stroke his thumb against Liam’s cheek. “Let's meet up again in two weeks, ok? I'll be back in London, we can set up something.” He stilled the movement of his thumb but kept his hand there, that simple touch enough to make some of the tension dissipate. 

Liam gently took hold of Louis’s wrist and turned his face to nuzzle it against Louis’s palm. That beard of his was unnaturally soft. “Yeah, alright,” he said, voice hoarse, the corner of his lips curling up in a familiar smile. 

Louis’s hand twitched, although he couldn’t have said whether he wanted to yank it away or press it even closer to Liam’s warm skin and wet lips. 

The car honked again, three blasts of noise in rapid succession, and Louis took his hand away.

“I’d better go before they drive off without me,” he said, leaning up and wrapping one arm around Liam’s shoulders in a quick hug. Watson moved away from the door and sat in front of the staircase, turning accusing eyes to Liam. “I’ll ring you when I get there, okay?” Louis asked, already turning to open the door, hitching his bag over his shoulder. 

“You’d better!” Liam called out after him as Louis trotted down the stairs to the pavement, throwing his bag into the open boot of the car.

He glanced back before getting into the backseat. Liam was casually leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, his smile fond and perhaps a little sad. Louis forced himself to grin brightly, waving a hand before letting the car door slam shut, sagging against the leather seats and closing his eyes.

Two weeks to replay those last five minutes over and over in his head. Wouldn't that be a hoot.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re a horrible liar,” Liam mumbled, but Louis could hear the smile in his voice. “You promised it'd be two weeks.”
> 
> “I swear to god, my family’s re-staging every single party I’ve missed for the past five years. You’re lucky I could get away at all! Plus, you cancelled on me _four times_ , Payne, so you really can't talk.”  
>   
> 

# CHAPTER THREE

  
  


Between family appointments, business meetings and social outings, two weeks somehow turned into two months. By the time Louis stood on Liam’s doorstep again, the unsettling memory of their parting was only a vague echo compared to the overwhelming need to just be in the same room with him, be able to reach out and poke him or mess up his hair, jump on his back or wrestle him to the ground. Louis felt frantic with it, rocking back on his heels as he waited for the door to open.

“You're early,” Liam said when he opened the door, standing in his hallway in his pants and a t-shirt, his hair a wonderful mess, his cheeks pink.

Louis looked him up and down with a small smile. “And you're underdressed. Although I'm not complaining.”

Liam's cheeks redenned further, but he pulled Louis into a hug anyway. Louis went willingly, not entirely conscious of the way his hands instantly started trailing up and down Liam's back, eager to reclaim him as their own. Liam was solid and warm against him and Louis felt the calmer he had felt in two whole months, like he was finally grounded once more.

“Hope there are paps outside, they'll get a lovely shot,” he quipped after a minute, resisting the absurd urge to slip a hand under Liam's t-shirt just so he could feel actual skin against his fingertips. Fuck, he’d missed him so badly. It suddenly seemed preposterous for Louis to have survived so long without seeing Liam. Surely he should have gone into withdrawal and stopped functioning seven weeks ago.

“They wouldn't even bat an eyelash,” Liam said, stepping back with such a goofy smile that Louis had no choice but to tweak his nipple in retaliation for making him feel so fuzzy inside. Liam didn't even flinch, and his smile didn't waver, so Louis reached down, ready to go for the crown jewels, but Liam was faster, gripping his wrist with strong fingers. Louis’s other hand met the same fate.

“Who died and made you The Flash?” Louis said, making sure to sound more annoyed than he really felt. His arms were pinned to his sides and Liam kept on looking at him with those damn soft eyes of his that made Louis's skin itch. He was two seconds away from lunging up and kissing Liam just for something to do, when Liam let his wrists go, taking the steps up to the first floor two at a time and shouting a “Just give me ten minutes!” over his shoulder before disappearing round the corner. 

Louis went to the living room, slightly unsettled and unsure about why, exactly, which only added to his restlessness. Then again he couldn't ever remember being away from Liam for such a long stretch of time. Their previous record must have been three weeks, tops. No wonder Louis felt a bit awkward.

Liam must have bribed Watson somehow, because he was sitting next to the couch like the perfectly trained dog Louis definitely knew he wasn’t, his wagging tail the only sign of the frenzy within.

“Did you get promised a treat again?” Louis asked, crouching down to rub Watson’s head. The mad thump-thump-thump of his tail only got louder, but Watson didn’t budge. “Must have been some treat,” Louis said, impressed, before flopping down on the couch and turning the tv on, zapping through Liam's 200 channels too fast to really see what was on any of them. He was on his third go around when Liam wrapped his arms around his chest from behind, bending over the couch’s back to nuzzle his face against Louis's neck, nipping at the skin.

Louis grinned and quickly dispelled any notion of shrugging Liam off, too glad for the touch.

“You’re a horrible liar,” Liam mumbled, but Louis could hear the smile in his voice. “You promised it'd be two weeks.”

“I swear to god, my family’s re-staging every single party I’ve missed for the past five years. You’re lucky I could get away at all! Plus, you cancelled on me _four times_ , Payne, so you really can't talk.”

“Yeah, that was really shitty of me.” Liam sighed, holding on to Louis a little more tightly still.

Watson whined, and Liam chuckled and straightened up; it was all Louis could do not to grab his arms and force him back down. “Good dog,” Liam said, and there was that fondness again, the one that made Louis want to prod and poke at Liam to get his attention away from a dog. “You can say hello now.”

The words were barely out of Liam’s mouth before Watson jumped on the couch, licking at Louis’s face in an enthusiastic greeting. Louis spluttered and blindly pushed his hands forward, trying to dislodge what he was pretty sure would have been called a small elephant in any other country.

“Oi!” he shouted as Liam burst out laughing. “Get your dog in check, I’m drowning here!”

Watson licked his face again and barked happily, and Louis twisted to look up at Liam, intending to complain. Liam was bent over the couch, genuinely crying with laughter, and the words died on Louis’s tongue.

Liam’s smile had been the first thing to endear him to Louis, all those years ago, back when Liam was guarded and focused and so worried about not being taken seriously. The first time Louis had made him smile had been a victory; the first time he made Liam laugh, that glorious moment when Liam had gone from a puzzled look to full out laughter in the space of a heartbeat, had been the beginning of a treasured friendship. And even now, when he knew Liam so well that making him smile or laugh was as easy as breathing, Louis still found himself enthralled by the way Liam’s entire _face_ smiled, from his mouth to his raised eyebrows to his crinkled eyes, like there was so much happiness in him that it needed to get out in every possible way it could. Liam’s smile made you feel special, made you feel like you mattered. At least that’s how it had always made Louis feel. That’s how it made him feel now, looking at Liam as he laughed, his entire body shaking with it, his cheeks red. 

He forgot about what he was guarding himself against then, and promptly found himself bowled over, strong paws pressing down on his chest as Watson, apparently under the belief that he was still a puppy, tried to sit in his lap. Liam only laughed harder at that, gripping the couch cushions to keep himself up but half kneeling down anyway, and Louis was torn between joining in the laughter and throwing a cushion at Liam’s head.

“When you’re done laughing, maybe you can help me?” he asked, staring up at Liam’s scrunched up face, while Watson kept on trying to lie over him, tail thumping over Louis’s knees.

“Sorry… sorry!” Liam gasped out, straightening up with some difficulty and wiping his eyes. “Watson, you big oaf! Down!”

Louis oofed as Watson dropped all his weight on him. Liam started laughing again, desperately trying to keep a straight face long enough to berate his dog. “Down on the floor, you idiot! Come on, down!”

Louis breathed a sigh of relief when Watson hopped down, going to sit in front of Liam and barking once.

“Yes, you've been a good dog,” Liam said. “C'mon, time to stretch your legs out.”

Watson barked again and bounded out in the hallway, running for the backdoor. Louis struggled back into a sitting position and found Liam smiling at him.

“Promised him some garden-time if he didn't jump on you as soon as I opened the door,” he explained, and Louis wondered if he was imagining the slightly bashful look on his face. “You don't mind?”

“Nah, but he'll have to wrestle me for the ball.”

As if on cue, Watson bounded back to the living room, clearly wondering what was causing a delay. He barked again when he saw Louis, but obediently followed Liam down the hallway.

“Yes, I know you’re happy to see Louis again,” he heard Liam say. “I’m very happy too,” Liam added, softly, and Louis was on his feet before he knew what he wanted to do, following in Liam’s footsteps.

He found him at the other end of the hallway, putting on a rather ragged looking winter coat while Watson stood on his hind legs, front paws pressed against the door better to look into the garden outside, tail wagging in anticipation. 

“Alright, alright!” Liam exclaimed when Watson yipped plaintively, unlocking the door and swinging it wide open, letting in the chilly March wind. Winter seemed to have started in January this year and Louis longed for the England spring, having been deprived of it for five long years.

Watson disappeared into the garden like a rocket and Liam turned to Louis, looking almost as excited to go out as his dog. “Shall we?”

“I didn't even get a proper hug before getting molested by your dog,” Louis blurted out, having apparently lost his brain on the couch.

It was however hard to feel bad about his runaway tongue when Liam beamed like a 200 watt bulb and crashed into him like a very good looking brick wall, almost lifting Louis off the floor.

“I'm wiping off your dog's drool on your coat,” Louis said, glad for the excuse to rub his cheeks against Liam's shoulder. Liam's coat smelled of dog and dirt and rain, something foreign and yet so appropriate it instantly reminded Louis of home.

Liam chuckled. “That's pretty much how all my clothes end up anyway. And,” he added, pressing a fleeting kiss to Louis's cheek, “I don't mind the drool.”

Louis bit his lip around a grin and slipped his arms under Liam's coat, not fighting his hands this time when they made their way under Liam's shirt in the search of warm skin. The touch seemed to only make Liam hold on more tightly still and Louis closed his eyes; feeling overwhelmed when close to Liam seemed to be a recurring thing lately and he wasn't sure how to deal with it, but every hug was a bit harder to break than the one before and he was almost certain Liam felt the same way.

“Two months was too long,” Liam said after a few unhurried minutes, voice breaking around the words as he pressed his face against Louis's shoulder, breathing in deep.

“I know. Let’s not do that ever again.”

Watson’s indignant barking made them finally step back from each other, Louis’s palms tingling with the loss of Liam’s warm skin.

“So, what d'you want to do, Payno?” he asked. “We've only got two days, better make the most of them!”

\--

They spent most of that morning playing with Watson in the garden, which mostly consisted of Liam and Watson running around and Louis sitting on an upturned log, cheering them on and throwing sticks in their general direction, looking the picture of innocence whenever he managed to hit Liam in the head. It was the best four hours Louis had spent in months, and he relished the mundanity of it all, the itchiness of the coat Liam had lent him and which completely dwarfed him, the quiet noises of the countryside and Watson’s mad barking, Liam’s breathless laughter as he ran, his cheeks glowing red from the exertion and the cold. 

They heated up some M&S shepherd’s pie for lunch and ate it cuddled up in front of Liam’s ridiculously huge fireplace, catching up on everything they’d done during the past two months as if they hadn’t been in constant contact through text messages and face times. In those moments Louis could really enjoy their break for what it was, when he had Liam’s friendship without all the downside of being constantly working; every silly joke he made was only for the both of them, not for an interviewer ten years older than they were to misunderstand and report as something to be taken seriously; and he could slip his hand in Liam’s without anyone taking a picture of it, not that that had ever stopped him. Every little thing they did seemed all the more precious for the lack of witnesses, and Louis forgot everything else for a while, let himself fantasize that things might always be exactly like this.

The fire was warm and their bellies were full and by unspoken agreement they decided to stay in for the afternoon, setting up a FIFA championship and only stopping for some tea and a few cigarette breaks on Liam’s doorstep, huddled together to keep from the increasing cold. Liam had apparently pledged to himself that he’d never smoke inside, which Louis didn’t really understand even though he had to admit Liam’s house smelled significantly better than his own smoke-stale flat.

The evening found them in Liam’s kitchen, Louis sitting on the counter while Liam cooked dinner, Watson lying down at their feet, clearly hoping to get scraps. Louis couldn’t stop grinning, tapping his foot against Liam’s knee as Liam chopped peppers next to him, humming to himself in time with Louis’s taps. Or maybe Louis was timing his taps to Liam’s humming. He wasn’t sure who had started it first.

“Since when have you become such a domestic beast, anyway?” Louis asked, stealing a piece of pepper from the chopping board.

“Careful, you’ll cut yourself,” Liam chided. “And I thought it’d be nice to actually take care of my own house during the break, after so many hotels.”

“So you’re just afraid of having nothing to do, uh?” Louis said, stealing another piece of pepper.

“Shush, or you won’t be getting dinner.”

“Then I’ll just have to steal yours.”

“You’re insufferable,” Liam said, but he smiled at Louis so fondly Louis had to look away.

Liam started humming again, and Louis watched him move around the kitchen in silence, his heart heavy with how perfect the moment felt. The emotion didn’t make sense to Louis, but he felt almost uneasy with it, until he had to move to get his mind occupied. He hopped down from the counter and pressed a kiss to Liam’s shoulder on his way back to the living room.

“I’ll go find a movie to watch,” he called out. Liam had almost no DVDs on his shelves, but he had about two billion movies saved on his laptop. More than enough to keep Louis’s thoughts occupied until dinner was ready.

\--

“D’you want to watch something else?” Liam asked a few hours later during the credits to Guardians of the Galaxy. They’d somehow ended up lying on the couch, their heads propped up on the throw pillows, Louis wrapped up around Liam’s back.

“Nah,” Louis said, already half-asleep and too comfortable to think much about anything.

Liam turned the TV off, but made no move to get off the couch, and Louis tightened his hold around his waist to make it clear he approved. They’d spent the entire day pretty much glued together but Louis still felt the sharp pain of withdrawal from two months without a single touch, and the idea of sleeping in one of Liam’s guest rooms, as comfy and homy as they might be, was unbearable.

“We’re gonna get cold,” Liam said without much enthusiasm.

“You’re a human radiator, Liam. We’ll be fine.”

Louis groaned when Liam sat up, throwing a leg over Liam’s lap to try and keep him still. He’d probably have to tackle him down to the ground now and then they’d never go back to sleeping.

“Just grabbing a plaid,” Liam said, leaning over Louis to take the cover that was hanging over the back of the couch. He draped it over the both of them and lied back down, now facing Louis, who wrapped his arm back around Liam’s waist with a smug smile.

“You do know I’ve got four bedrooms, right?” Liam asked softly, but Louis knew he’d won. He scooted even closer, burrowing his face between Liam’s cheek and his pillow.

“This is better,” he said, closing his eyes. There was no sound in the room apart from Watson’s soft snoring and Liam’s uneven breathing and life had never been more perfect.

“I miss you,” Liam whispered suddenly, the words brushing against Louis's cheek in a soft puff of air. “I miss you all the time, isn't that stupid?”

“Well thank you very much,” Louis said testily, but he was quite happy that Liam couldn't properly see his face right then. There was no way he'd have been able to hide the dopey grin stretching his lips.

“I don't miss the other boys as much,” Liam continued, ignoring him. 

“That's because I'm the most important person in your life.”

Louis had made his tone light, just hoping to get a chuckle out of Liam, but his chest contracted as Liam held him even tighter than before, wordlessly pressing his lips against Louis’s neck. 

“Payno, you idiot…” he whispered, inching his head back so he could look at him. Liam’s eyes were so fucking bright, even in the dim light, so eager and trusting and Louis wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to deserve it, because apart from being an annoying little shit it wasn’t like he’d ever been very good at anything.

He closed his eyes to get away from whatever it was that was shining in Liam’s, but inched his head forward again until their foreheads and the side of their noses were pressed together. He could almost feel Liam’s parted lips against his, and it was comforting somehow, this sharing of air, both of their breathing slowly syncing together.

He drifted off to sleep with the feel of Liam’s hair under his fingertips, Liam’s hot palm pressed against his back, safe and warm and more than a little loved.

\--

Waking up was rather less pleasant, his body cramped up from lying in the same position all night long, cheek imprinted with the pattern of Liam’s couch pillows, skin sticky with sweat after all the body heat they’d given out during the night. Liam’s face was smushed against Louis’s chest and Louis could feel a wet patch on his t-shirt where Liam must have drooled. The living room curtains weren’t closed and a ray of bright winter sunlight was pointing straight into Louis’s eyes, half blinding him.

Louis beamed.

Disentangling himself from Liam without waking him up or letting him fall to the floor took some time, but Louis’s bladder would not listen to reason. He finally made his way to the ground floor bathroom and took a shower while he was at it, brushing his teeth for good measure before heading back out. Liam was still sleeping, sprawled all over the couch now that he had more room, the plaid kicked into a ball at his feet and his t-shirt riding high on his torso. 

Louis knew Liam was fit, just like he knew the earth orbited around the sun and the sky was blue, but it was always a bit of a shock to be reminded of it through actual sight, and he stood in the doorway for a while, eyes fixed on Liam’s toned stomach, rising and falling gently with each breath. He shook himself and went to the kitchen. Clearly he was losing his touch if the sight of Liam’s belly made him pause in contemplation instead of reaching out to tickle or pinch.

He was making scrambled eggs, his second mug of tea in hand, when Liam stumbled into the kitchen, stretching his arms over his head and yawning. “What's the point of a break if you still get up at the crack of dawn,” he said, hugging Louis from behind and pressing a sleepy kiss to Louis's neck, like an echo of the night before.

“It's ten in the morning, Liam. Hardly the crack of dawn,” Louis said primly, shrugging Liam off to rummage through his fridge in search of cheddar.

“Still feels like it… I bought pancakes, thought we could heat them up.” Liam flopped down on a barstool and pointed at a cupboard with his foot. He looked sleepy and relaxed and terribly happy, and Louis felt his fingertips tingle with the desire to reach out and stroke Liam's lazy smile. This was getting ridiculous.

“You _bought_ pancakes?” he asked instead of doing anything embarrassing like stroking Liam's mouth. “Well aren't you a celebrity, not bothering with pancake mix like the rest of us.”

“At least these don’t look like they’ve been dropped on the floor,” Liam said good naturedly. 

“If this is supposed to be a jab at my _fantastic_ cooking skills,” Louis said, dumping some pancakes on a plate and shoving it into the microwave, “the world will vindicate me one day, you’ll see.”

Liam didn't argue further, and Louis finished preparing breakfast, getting himself a third cup of tea and another one for Liam, handing him the sugar bowl with the most judgemental look he could muster. Liam heaped not three but four spoons into his mug, looking at Louis with a smirk, but it was Louis’s turn to gloat when Liam actually had to drink the thing, lips curling down at the overdose of sugar.

“Thought we could go for a bike ride,” Liam said when the tea and the pancakes were done with, taking Louis’s empty mug and placing it in the dishwasher. “It’s supposed to rain this afternoon but we could just go for a couple hours, if you’re up for it.”

Louis thought of the rides they used to take, back when things weren’t yet as crazy as they’d become, when they could actually get around London without being mobbed every step of the way. They hadn’t been able to do that in years. 

But this wasn’t London, this was Wolverhampton, where no paparazzi ever bothered to come and where everyone knew Liam from when he was just Liam, not as some hotshot celebrity. He attempted to smile, but realized he was already grinning. “Yeah, sounds perfect,” he said, and the blinding smile Liam shot him before hurrying away to get showered and dressed warmed him up more than the tea and pancakes had done.

\--

“We should probably go to bed,” Liam half-said, half-yawned, patting Louis's ankle. 

They were settled in front of the TV, Louis taking up most of the couch, slumped in one corner with his legs stretched out on Liam's lap. Liam had been absentmindedly stroking Louis's ankle all evening long, fingers slipping under Louis's sweatpants and wooly socks in the search of skin, and the last thing Louis wanted to do right then was move.

“There's only two episodes left. I'm not sleeping until I know how this ends,” he said, trying and failing to stifle his own yawn.

They'd had plans for the day, they really had. But they’d come back from their bike ride sweaty and tired and then Louis had offered they watch the first episode of Jessica Jones while they ate lunch and they'd ended up binge watching the entire thing. Louis vaguely felt like they should be ashamed, but couldn't bring himself to care. They'd gone around the world together, had done the craziest shit together. Surely now they were allowed to just hang out.

“Well _I'm_ falling asleep,” Liam mumbled, yawning again.

“C’m’here,” Louis said, rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically as if this was all _such_ a drag. He reached out for Liam's arm and tugged him down so that, after some shifting around, Liam was more or less squeezed between Louis and the back of the couch, head resting on Louis's torso, turned towards the TV.

“Better?”

“Better,” Liam murmured, rubbing his cheek against Louis's t-shirt like an overgrown cat, shifting some more to wrap an arm around Louis's waist.

“Now shh, I need to concentrate.”

He couldn't really have said how the series got resolved. Stuff happened, and he was quite sure Jessica beat the crap out of quite a few people, but as to what had happened to Killgrave and how, Louis had no clue.

By the time the last credits rolled, however, he'd gotten properly reacquainted with the rhythm of Liam's breathing when he slept, the soft warmth of the skin of his back under Louis’s fingertips, the sight of his eyelashes fanning over his cheeks.

It all felt so much more important, somehow, than knowing whether or not David Tennant’s character had gotten his comeuppance, and Louis kept on revising those familiar touches long into the night, until the TV shut itself down and he couldn’t see Liam's face anymore.

\--

He woke up to big brown eyes and a tender smile.

“Have you been looking at me sleeping like some creepy sparkling vampire?” he teased, voice raw from sleep. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched his legs experimentally, wary of cramps. When he looked at Liam again, he was blushing. “Oh my god, you have, haven’t you? I bet you’ve been watching me sleep all night,” Louis said, delighted. “Who could blame you, though.”

He scooted backwards when Liam reached out for his nipple, and would have ended arse first on the floor if it wasn’t for Liam’s hand slipping to his lower back and pushing him back up.

“Couch, remember?” Liam said with a little smile. He didn’t move his hand from Louis’s back. Louis was quite sure his best friend’s palm over a t-shirt should not have been anything to write home about, but it felt like Liam’s fingertips were being branded on his skin, in a rather good way.

“Ah yes, right. You really need to buy some beds.”

Liam’s eyes crinkled at the corners and Louis hid his own smile against Liam’s sweatshirt, annoyed with himself; as if making Liam smile at an average joke was anything to take pride in nowadays.

“What time is it?” he asked to distract himself from his idiotic brain.

“No idea.”

“That means we can sleep a bit longer then,” Louis said, his voice going a little wonky at the end when Liam started rubbing his back like the devious bastard he was. He _heard_ Liam smile, which was something that had always puzzled him, and shifted to get more comfortable, pressing one hand against Liam’s chest, a bit taken aback at how fast Liam’s heart was beating.

“So, um, when are you leaving?” Liam asked.

Louis’s heart dropped. “Dunno.”

“Aren’t you taking a plane?”

“Yeah, got some people to meet in Chicago.”

“So when does the plane leave?”

“Can we please stop talking about me leaving?” Louis gritted out, trying and completely failing to hide the anger from his voice.

Liam tensed next to him, before his hand started rubbing soothing circles on Louis’s back once again. “Okay,” Liam said, soft and apologetic. “So, how did Jessica Jones end?” he asked after a while. 

His fingers slipped down to Louis’s lower back and met skin where his t-shirt was riding up. They halted for a second, then traced the hem of Louis’s sweatpants, stopping on his naked hip before sliding up under Louis’s t-shirt. Louis managed to stop himself from sighing, but couldn’t suppress a shiver. He hadn’t hooked up with anyone in too long, that’s what it was. He was clearly touch-deprived.

“Fuck if I know,” he said, dimly conscious that Liam had asked him a question. 

Liam chuckled, trailing his fingertips up Louis’s spine. “Guess we’ll have to watch it again then.”

“Yeah...” 

Liam’s fingers slid back down, all the way to Louis’s sweatpants, fingertips sliding just under the waistband, coming to a rest right above Louis’s arse. Louis’s body tensed from his toes to his shoulders before he made himself relax again, hand clenching around Liam’s sweatshirt. This was becoming ridiculous. Liam had done this a thousand times (alright, maybe not this, exactly, but gestures such as this, stroking Louis’s hair or tickling him), there was absolutely no reason for Louis to find himself short of breath, no reason for his heart to skip a beat every time Liam’s fingers moved. They trailed back up Louis’s spine, all the way to the nape of his neck, his t-shirt bunching up around Liam’s fist, and Louis instinctively tipped his face up towards Liam’s neck, seeking the steady beat of Liam’s heart thrumming through his veins.

Liam’s fingers went back down, blunt fingernails scratching faintly along Louis’s back before his hand sneaked under Louis’s waistband once more, slightly lower than before, and Louis slipped his leg between Liam’s to get closer before he realized what he was doing and moved it back, probably only making things worse. He was desperately trying not to pant against Liam’s neck and probably failing; he had no idea if the laboured breaths he was hearing were coming from him or from Liam.

He was almost grateful for the sharp sting of claws on his lower back, even though the pain made him lurch forward, shoving his semi against Liam’s thigh. Watson stood on his hind legs in front of the couch, front paws pressed down on Louis’s back bearing down the full weight of him, panting happily as if he wanted to join in whatever exciting game Liam and Louis might have been partaking in.

“Fuck, I liked it better when you did it,” Louis gasped against Liam’s chest.

“Bad dog, down!” Liam shouted, sitting up and leaning over Louis to shove at a very confused Watson. “ _Down_!” he said again, shoving harder. Watson flopped down on the floor, whining.

“It’s okay,” Louis said, even though his back was stinging quite badly.

“He drew blood,” Liam said softly, then louder, “You stupid oaf, you’re not a puppy anymore!”

“Hey, I’ll live,” Louis said, struggling to sit up. He glanced down at Watson and felt guilt flaring up. He’d never seen Liam get angry at his dog before; it didn’t seem to be something Liam would do, no matter what mischief said dog might get up to.

“We’d better disinfect the scratches,” Liam said, avoiding Louis’s eyes and climbing over him to stand up. Watson raised his head hopefully, but Liam ignored him, striding to the ground floor bathroom.

“Sorry buddy,” Louis whispered, scratching Watson’s head before following in Liam’s footsteps.

He found Liam crouching in front of the bathroom mirror, rummaging into a drawer for cotton and disinfectant.

“I’m really okay,” Louis said, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “He just wanted to see what we were doing.”

He regretted the words as soon as they were out, because what _had_ they been doing, really? What the fuck had _he_ been doing? Liam hung his head for a second, then straightened up, supplies in hand, and turned to Louis. The bathroom had one of those eco-friendly lightbulbs that took a while to fully flare up, so the light was dim, but Louis was almost sure he wasn’t imagining the redness on Liam’s cheeks.

“I guess it’s a miracle he didn’t try to sleep on you during the night,” Liam finally said with a little smile that felt slightly forced but blossomed into a real one when Louis chuckled. “C’mon, turn around, I’ll patch you up.”

Louis went to stand in front of the mirror and Liam stepped behind him, fingers curling around the hem of Louis’s t-shirt and tugging it up until Louis took the hint and raised his arms, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He watched as Liam’s reflection calmly folded the t-shirt and put it on the washstand before kneeling down behind Louis. He wanted to tell Liam he could take care of himself but truth be told the most he could have done was swab blindly at his lower back, hoping for the best.

The disinfectant stung a little in that not-too-unpleasant way and soon enough Liam’s hands fell away from him. “All patched up.”

“You should kiss it better,” Louis quipped before he could think not to, because he was an idiot who always went too far. He was about to turn around and shrug it off, but Liam’s hands gently took hold of his hips and Liam’s lips pressed against his back. No touch this soft should have punched the air from Louis’s lungs with such force, but there it was. Liam’s lips left his skin, then pressed against it again, slightly higher, and Louis realized with a jolt that Liam intended to kiss every scratch. Another kiss had Louis’s fingers clenching around the rim of the washstand as his knees turned to jelly under him. The fourth kiss was longer, Liam’s fingers pressing down on the soft skin of Louis’s hips, and Louis’s heart did a sickly somersault behind his ribs, brain frantic with not knowing how many scratches Watson had left on his skin, how many kisses were still to come. Liam’s lips pressed against his lower back a fifth time and Louis bit his lip around a whimper, screwing his eyes shut.

“All better.”

The words were barely more than a puff of warm air against Louis’s skin. Before he knew it Liam was standing up again, a solid presence a mere inch away from Louis’s own hunched up body. Louis stared at the faucets for a few seconds, then slowly raised his eyes to the mirror and the reflection of Liam’s face. Liam was staring straight back at him, expression undecipherable, and Louis wondered when exactly Liam had become a closed book to him, when every minute movement of his face had once been like a song Louis knew by ear.

Louis tore his eyes away from their reflections and reached out for his t-shirt, moving away from the mirror and Liam’s body.

“I’ll go make some tea,” Liam said. When Louis’s head emerged from the collar of his t-shirt, Liam was already gone.

\--

Louis put it off as long as he humanly could, but he did have a plane to catch at Heathrow at 8pm and by 4pm he knew he couldn’t possibly hold it off any longer. Packing up his things didn’t take more than a few minutes, gathering the clothes he’d scattered around the living-room and stealing the hoodie Liam had been wearing the day before without really noticing he was doing it. He’d told Liam he needed to take a piss, part of him not ready to put his departure into words. He couldn’t bear another goodbye, couldn’t bear another long hug. Leaving Liam shouldn’t have made him feel like the end of summer, the night before the first day of class. He’d left Liam loads of times. It was nothing new.

And yet, as he stood in the doorway to Liam’s playroom, looking at Liam’s back as he sat on the floor, petting a delighted Watson (Louis could feel Liam’s guilt radiating out of him, but of course Watson had already forgotten all about that morning’s scolding, his unfailing love and trust for his master back in full force), Louis felt his heart clench and his palms get sweaty with nerves.

He walked to where Liam was sitting and crouched down behind him, wrapping his arms around Liam’s torso and resting his cheek against Liam’s back, knees pressing on either side of Liam’s arms. One of Liam’s hands instantly left Watson’s fur to gently take hold of Louis’s wrist, thumb stroking his club tattoo. They stayed like that for a while, neither of them saying anything, and that more than anything made Louis’s breath catch in his throat, heart beating a sickly rhythm against Liam’s back.

“Gotta dash,” Louis finally said, not making any move to get away. Liam’s fingers tightened around his wrist before letting go. Louis pressed his lips to the nape of Liam's neck, lingering there for a second before regretfully unwrapping his arms from around Liam’s body and getting up. “Don't trouble yourself,” he said when Liam made to get up as well; “I'll see myself out.”

He knew it was unfair to punish Liam for his own troubled thoughts, but he didn’t trust himself with another goodbye. God knows what he might end up doing.

“Hey, Tommo,” Liam called out just as Louis reached the doorway. He was still on the floor, torso twisted so he could look back at Louis. Louis didn’t know if it was anger or sadness that twisted Liam’s eyebrows into a frown, and wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Yeah?”

“You… You’ll call me when you’re back in London, right?”

“‘f’course,” Louis said, sending what he hoped looked like a genuine smile Liam’s way before making his way to the front door, taking the steps down two at a time. Putting an ocean between him and Liam had never seemed like a better idea than it did right then. Maybe the distance would help Louis’s brain stop fucking with him before anything happened that he wouldn’t be able to take back with a wink and a joke.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _cancel everything you’ve got planned next week, we’re going on a recce._
> 
> In which Lilo goes to Paris.

# CHAPTER FOUR

  
  


He did not call Liam when he came back from Chicago, instead going straight to Ireland to spend some time with Niall, touring the pubs and reluctantly going on long walks around the midlands in an attempt at sweating off Maura’s hearty home cooking.

Weirdly enough, not thinking about Liam was easier here, a mere 300 miles away from him, with another member of their band, than it had been all the way back in Chicago. Niall got him drunk, didn't pry, made conversation for two and laughed so uproariously at Louis's jokes that he found himself forgetting, just for a moment, what a screw-up he was.

The only problem, really, was at night, when Louis would find himself sitting up in bed, staring down at his phone, thumb poised over the text message icon, debating whether or not to reach out to Liam. He trolled Liam's accounts for news of him, getting his fix through Tumblr fan posts and sightings. From what he could see, Liam seemed to have reverted to his behaviour post-break up, spending his days in Sainsbury’s and posting videos of Watson on Instagram, videos which Louis did not at all watch over and over with a stupid fond smile at hearing Liam's puppy-voice.

He just wished Liam would reach out to him first. He couldn’t imagine him not being aware that Louis was back from the States, not with the amount of paps and fan pictures that had been taken at the airport, and didn’t know how to take his silence. Maybe Liam wanted the space after all, a breather from his fucked up best friend.

Not that Louis spent any time thinking about what had happened the last time they’d hung out together. _Not_ thinking about it was a full-time, exhausting task that Louis performed with stubborn diligence. Maybe if he didn’t think about it, then it - whatever “it” had been - would all go away. Foolproof plan.

Louis lasted only a week of this before caving in.

_cancel everything you’ve got planned next week, we’re going on a recce._

He added a few emojis (a couple excited faces, the sunglasses smile, a top hat, a pink poodle, a frog, a glass of wine, a loaf of bread and, because there was no such thing as being too obvious with Liam, the Eiffel tower) and sent it before he could change his mind. Only then did he go about actually organizing something. He also sent half a dozen apologetic texts to cancel his own plans, including one to Harry, with whom he’d been supposed to meet up to discuss a song Harry was struggling with.

_hey hazza can’t come next week, make it up to you later?_

He didn’t know where in the world Harry was right then, but he was obviously awake for his answer came almost instantly.

_everything alright?_

_yeah, just going on a little trip with Payno._

_Ditching me for Liam? Typical. Where are you going?_

_Land of the frogs,_ Louis typed out, adding an Eiffel tower for good measure.

_you’re taking Liam to Paris? Just the two of you?_

_Gonna get some writing done._

_About damn time. :)_

Louis stared at Harry’s reply for a while. For some reason he was quite sure Harry wasn’t talking about the song writing. But asking him what the fuck he was on about would only make things worse. 

Thankfully, Harry had never needed a captive audience to ramble on. Louis’s phone twirped with another incoming message.

_Have a strategy yet?_

_Think we know how to write songs, Harry._

_Not what I’m asking about._

Well, great. Now Louis had no choice but to ask.

_What the fuck are you on about?_

_To woo the Paynmaister. I can give you tips._ Harry had added about ten emojis which Louis guessed represented his “tips”, ending very unsubtly with the aubergine emoji.

Louis blinked.

_We’re going there to write_ , he typed out again, knowing as he did it how idiotic that would sound. But his brain was filled with static.

_Of course you are. He likes romantic gestures, remember. But hey, Paris!_

_Hazza you only ever amuse yourself._

Harry didn’t send anything more, and it was only then Louis realized Liam hadn’t yet replied to his message. He hadn’t even spared a thought to the possibility that Liam might not be available, might not be willing.

He spent the morning half-listening to what Niall was telling him, glancing at his phone every two minutes, which very quickly had Niall quizzing him about his new conquest, because the boy was an idiot.

When lunchtime rolled around there was still no sign from Liam, and Louis forced two plates of Maura’s stew past the lump in his throat, all too aware of what Niall would say if he suddenly lost his appetite.

Finally, around 4pm, his phone pinged.

_had to get out ofa weddding but im good! cant wiat!!!_

_r we goin to paris?!_

Louis breathed a sigh of relief and sneaked out of the living room, followed by Niall’s obnoxious catcalling. His bandmates were the worst people ever, really, each one worse than the last.

_what clued you in? :p_

_meet up monday 9am in St Pancras._

_Were taking teh train??_

_Less chance for paps._

The decision to book train tickets had been so natural Louis hadn’t even considered the alternative. But it made sense, anyway. The last thing he wanted was for paps and fans to snap pictures of them. This trip was for them, it was private, and he was ready to share it with absolutely not a fucking soul.

_cant wait_ Liam sent again, followed by half a dozen grinning emojis.

Louis stared at his screen for a while, then stuffed his phone back into his pocket, schooled his features, and went back inside to face Niall’s ribbing.

\--

“There you go, sir. Don’t hesitate to call the reception if you need anything.”

Louis tipped the bellboy and hushed him out the door. He had booked a two-bedroom suite at random from what the George V had to offer, just making sure that it had a terrasse for their smoking breaks. It was every bit as stuffy and old-fashioned as he’d expected, but Liam looked almost bashful when he turned to Louis, a small bewildered smile on his lips.

“Thought you'd have just booked two rooms,” Liam said, as if he'd never been in a 5-star hotel before.

Louis strode to their bags and rummaged around for his Playstation, scattering the handful of video games he’d taken with him on the floor and dumping a few clothes on the couch for good measure, willing his cheeks to cool down and his hands to dry. Fucking Harry Styles getting to his head. Of _course_ he’d taken a suite, that was the logical thing to do! It meant they wouldn’t have to go in and out of each other’s rooms all the time, which meant less chance of being spotted by other guests.

“I guess you’re right.”

Louis blinked, then realized he’d said the last part out loud. His cheeks felt burning hot. “I’m starving,” he all but shouted, not turning back towards Liam. “How about you get us some room service? I’ll finish unpacking.”

“You mean you’ll finish throwing the contents of your bags around the place?” Liam asked, his voice teasing and fond.

“Potayto potahto,” Louis mumbled, rummaging in his bag for something shiny enough for him to check his reflection and see if he was really blushing as badly as he thought he was. Harry was going to pay for this.

Making an absolute mess of their fancy suite and eating pretty much everything that was offered on the hotel menu brought a semblance of normalcy back and Louis finally allowed himself to relax as they settled in front of the TV, console pads in hand.

“Wait, aren’t we supposed to be here to write?” Liam said, as if he’d only just remembered what Louis had told him in the train.

Louis rolled his eyes. “We’re bound to take breaks, right? To get stuck? So let’s just get it all out of our systems now, and then we’ll be able to write for hours. It’s foolproof.”

He did not get flustered by Liam’s very cocky smile and raised eyebrow. That would have been stupid.

\--

They spent the first day playing FIFA and taking turns at the Assassin’s Creed that took place in revolutionary Paris (“It’s pretty much like going outside,” Louis had argued), Louis speeding through the main quest, Liam helping every stray kitten and lost orphan. When night fell Louis ruled it was too late to try and write, that they’d only get crap down (which was a blatant lie, as most of their best efforts had been achieved when both of them were too sleep-deprived to second-guess themselves), so they put a film on, Louis making sure to remain sitting upright at all times, resolute in not setting himself up for more embarrassment.

“Wanna watch something else?” Louis asked when whatever they’d been watching had ended. He wasn’t sure what it had been, some kind of action flick, maybe with Jason Statham? Liam had put his hand on Louis’s knee ten minutes in, his fingertips drawing patterns that Louis couldn’t decipher no matter how much he focused, so he’d been a little distracted.

“Kinda,” Liam said, then yawned, his hand finally leaving Louis’s knee to cover his mouth. The warmth he left behind was like a ghost touch. “Falling asleep though...”

“Pretty sure these fancy pants bedrooms have TV screens,” Louis said before he could stop himself.

Liam looked at him from the corner of his eye, which in itself was rare enough to make Louis take notice. Liam usually confronted Louis head on; sidelong glances had never been his style. But there he was, pretending to look at the TV while watching Louis like he was some kind of wild animal or something. Which Louis would be, like, he wouldn't be a dog or an otter, he'd be like a panther, or a shark.

It was possible he was getting flustered again.

“C'mon Payno, let's go investigate,” he said, getting up so fast he sent his forgotten game controller flying across the coffee table. He paused, then strode to a bedroom at random, tripping on one of the carpets and almost bashing his head against the doorframe.

He let himself fall face first on the king size bed and groaned into the comforter. This trip was both the best and the worst idea he'd ever had, which was saying something. He wasn't going to survive it. He was getting surer of that by the minute.

“Going to watch the film like that?” Liam asked five minutes later, sitting gingerly at the top of the bed. Louis rolled on his side to glare at him, but found himself smiling instead; Liam was holding two steaming mugs of tea. 

Louis scrambled to his knees and crawled up the bed to sit down next to Liam, taking the mug that was being offered to him, wriggling around a bit to get comfortable against the mountain of throw pillows.

“Wanna watch the sequel?”

“Sure,” Louis said, still unsure about what exactly they'd been watching before. He let himself slither down until he was more or less lying down, his head propped up just enough not to spill tea all over himself every time he took a sip.

Liam put the film on and ah, right, _The Expendables_ , that was what they’d been watching. Concentrating was slightly easier now that none of his body parts were in contact with Liam’s body, but missing out on the entire first film made it hard to care about the characters and once he was done with his tea Louis scooted even further down on the mattress, giving up on watching entirely. 

Liam was either equally underwhelmed or just too tired; the TV abruptly clicked shut and they were left in silence, Liam shifting to lie on his side next to Louis.

“Well I guess that wasn't so bad for our first day,” Louis said thoughtfully, staring up at the ceiling. The halos from the bedside lamps mingled with the passing headlights from the cars outside into ever moving shapes that felt more like a beat the longer Louis stared at them.

“It was great,” Liam said, so firmly that Louis had to smile.

Louis started tapping his fingers on his belly in time with the flickering lights, trying to find a pattern in the chaos. Little by little, something like a beat emerged, and Louis felt his heart race up with excitement, the familiar rush of creation. There was something there, definitely; he only needed to tame it and put it down on paper.

After a while Liam’s fingers came to rest on Louis’s forearm, tapping a counter rhythm to Louis’s beat, something that weaved in and out of it like the shadow of a melody. Louis kept on staring at the ceiling, but he could feel Liam's eyes on his face, and every tap of Liam's fingers seemed to leave behind invisible ink, branding Louis and making the beat even louder in his head.

They kept at it for what felt like hours, until it felt like it had become a part of them, their fingers following the patterns they had created without them needing to focus.

Louis had just decided that the moment was right when he felt Liam shifting next to him, his fingers not missing a beat even as he wrestled his phone free of his trousers with his other hand. Liam sat up and bent over his phone for a while, eyebrows scrunched up in concentration as he laid their two rhythms down on his screen, keeping his half of the beat up on Louis’s forearm all the way through.

After about ten minutes, Liam handed him the phone, and Louis made a few customary changes before handing it back. He felt elated. Songwriting was not better than sex ( _nothing_ was better than sex, Louis thought, or else you were doing sex wrong), but it was a close second, right behind performing on stage, which actually left you sweaty and exhausted and aching in muscles you didn’t know you had, just like really good sex.

“I need a cigarette,” Liam said with a grin, echoing Louis’s sentiment exactly, as always.

They stood side by side on the balcony, leaning on the railway, staring down at the lighted boulevard and its ballet of cars going round and round the obelisk. There was something magical about Paris at night that made Louis want to go out and wander aimlessly in the quiet streets, surrendering to the city.

“Thanks for booking this trip,” Liam said, bumping his hand against Louis’s. Louis spread his fingers so Liam’s could slip in between, their hands pressed back to back in a reverse handhold. “I missed you,” he added, so softly Louis wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear it.

“I’m sorry I went AWOL for a while there,” Louis said. “... I think I needed to get out of my head for a while.”

“Did it work?” Liam asked, eyes fixed on the road below.

“... I’m not sure,” Louis said, staring at Liam’s profile, clearing his throat when his voice came out strangled. His brain felt as befuddled as it ever had. “Let’s go to bed,” he said, straightening up and flicking his cigarette butt over the railing. It landed on the hat of a snooty looking man, 3 floors below, and Louis felt a surge of pride.

By unspoken agreement they both crawled into the same bed, Louis refraining from cuddling up to Liam no matter how much he wanted to. It didn’t matter, anyway. As they were wont to do, their bodies found one another during the night, and Louis woke up in the pink dawn to find himself tangled up in Liam’s embrace. Extracting himself from Liam’s death grip would have meant waking him up, so Louis huddled closer and went back to sleep.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2nd day of the Paris trip. In which toy boats are rented, songs are written, fancy food is eaten, and Louis is still an oblivious idiot.  
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case this chapter wasn't enough incentive, I strongly enjoin anyone visiting Paris in the summer to go to the Luxembourg gardens and rent a toy boat. Seriously. Do it. 
> 
> The lyrics Liam sings at the end are taken from Jude's King of Yesterday, because I know my creative limits.  
>    
> 

# CHAPTER FIVE

  
  


They woke up with their minds still filled with the previous night’s beat and went straight to work, trying to come up with a melody and lyrics to match it. By lunchtime, however, Louis had a notebook full of doodles and not a single word penned down. He could feel inspiration bubbling up, just out of reach, but his brain remained blank.

“Let's go out,” he said, throwing his pencil down and getting up from the 3 inch thick carpet he'd been lying down on. “Where d'you wanna go?” he asked Liam, who'd been frowning at a piece of paper for a good twenty minutes, pen poised over it as if he was about to write.

“I'm sorry, what did you say?” Liam said after a second, finally looking up at Louis.

“We're going out, where do you want to go?”

“I don't know… Any place we could get a decent burger.”

A quick search on Louis's phone turned up ten burger joints that seemed worth visiting and they picked one at random, somewhere in the Latin Quarter.

The day was warm and sunny and the restaurant was crowded with students so they took their burgers to go and sat down to eat on a lawn in the Luxembourg gardens, throwing fries at the pigeons and watching kids playing around the fountain.

Some of them had tiny wooden boats that they pushed in the water, but Louis couldn’t see where they were getting them from. Surely every kid in Paris did not own a wooden boat for park outings? He got up and brushed the crumbs off his lap, determined to get to the bottom of it.

“D'you wanna go already?” Liam asked him from his spot on the lawn, leaning back on his outstretched arms and taking in the sun. He looked like some kind of sun god, and Louis was well aware of the appraising looks a couple nearby women were throwing him. He felt his fingers twitch with the urge to do something silly, like tug Liam's trousers down or stuff grass in his t-shirt, anything that would make those women lose interest, but that would possibly have been a little weird.

He shook his head. “Nah, just have a mystery to investigate,” he said, setting off in the direction of the fountain. “Be right back!” he called over his shoulder. A little girl, dressed in plaids, barely steady on her feet, carrying her boat pressed to her chest with two arms, seemed to be done for the day. Louis followed her, closely watched by what appeared to be the girl's mother (whether she had recognised him or mistook him for a child molester, Louis wasn't sure), until she stopped in front of a cart filled with boats that had been previously obscured by a statue.

The person in charge of renting the boats did not speak a word of English but Louis muddled through and came back to Liam with two boats and two sticks to propel them in the water, grinning from ear to ear.

Liam sat up straighter, his smile matching Louis's. “Please tell me you didn't steal that from some kids,” he said, but he was already getting up, gathering the remains of their food to dump them in the nearest trashcan. The women followed his every move as if they were spellbound, but Liam seemed blissfully unaware, walking back to Louis with twinkling eyes.

Louis directed a smug smirk their way before turning his attention to Liam. “Nah, rented them,” he said. “We've got them for an hour, plenty of time for me to make you look like a landlubber.”

One of the things Louis liked the most about Liam was the way the boy never, ever turned down a challenge; the gleam in Liam's eyes as he took the proffered boat harked back to many a fun time, and Louis felt himself buzzing with anticipation.

\--

They were gently but firmly expelled from the gardens 30 minutes later, after Louis had sent his boat straight to the center of the fountain and got it stuck against the centerpiece. After trying to coax the resident ducks into pushing the boat free, Louis had taken off his shoes, rolled up his jeans (ineffectually, as the fountain turned out to be much deeper than Louis had anticipated, the water reaching up over his knees), and waded through the basin to get his boat back. Turned out only the caretakers were allowed to do that, and Louis's inability to apologize had gotten them into a spot of trouble before Liam stepped in to calm everyone down.

“I still say this ‘no wading in the fountain’ policy’s dumb as fuck,” Louis said loudly enough for the retreating caretakers to hear, leaning against the outer park wall and lighting up a smoke, trying to act as if his jeans weren't trailing water.

“I’m sure they’ve got their reasons. Got one of these for me?” Liam took the proffered cigarette with a nod and leaned forward for Louis to light it for him.

Louis had always loved to watch Liam smoke. Those lips sucking on the end of a cigarette or opening up around a trail of smoke somehow made it all look downright filthy, which Louis had originally taken great pleasure in pointing out to Liam, until the day Liam had stopped getting flustered and _Louis_ had been the one having to look away.

He didn't look away now, head turned to the side, his own forgotten cigarette dwindling down to ashes as he unabashedly stared at Liam, who was smoking as if he hadn't had a cigarette in months, head thrown back and eyes closed. Louis found himself reaching into his pocket for his phone, but Liam opened his eyes and Louis looked away, flicking his cigarette of ashes off.

“That was nice,” Liam said, and Louis had no idea whether he meant the cigarette, the boat race, the burger or all of the above.

He darted his eyes around the busy boulevard and stood up straight. “Race you to the hotel?” he said, already starting to run towards a bike station he remembered passing on their way there. He heard Liam shout, then the sound of sneakers beating up the pavement, and ran faster, laughing.

\--

“Okay, I seriously need a shower, I’ll be right back. Write down those lyrics you were humming earlier on!” Louis called back to Liam as he strode to the bathroom, shaking out of his clothes on the way. They’d ended up racing one another on their bikes until they were hopelessly lost and what should have been a 30 minute trip turned into a 3 hour trek.

Louis had never felt better, his fingertips tingling with the urge to write, to somehow find a way to put this day down on paper so he could look at it again later, could sing it out on stage to share a bit of that warmth with people (“to brag” would probably be a more honest way of putting it, Louis reflected as he got under the shower, but nobody had to know).

When he came back to the living room, drying his hair with a hand towel, Liam was sitting in the middle of the carpet, wearing nothing but his pants and feverishly typing on his phone. They always wrote their lyrics down on paper out of some weird superstition, but Liam’s notebook lay at his feet with only a few lines scribbled in.

“Are you working on those lyrics from earlier?” Louis asked, stopping to properly rub at his hair.

Liam looked up and instantly shut his phone, trying to slip it into his back pocket before realizing he wasn’t wearing trousers. “Um, no, that’s just… something else. The lyrics are here though,” he said, pointing to his notebook.

Louis couldn't help the pang of hurt at the secrecy any more than he could help the flash of arousal in front of Liam's lean legs and toned stomach. “What’s the other stuff about?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light, as Liam got up and placed his phone on a nearby desk.

“Ah, it’s not… It’s just something silly,” Liam said, not meeting Louis’s eyes. “Not really song material.”

Louis opened his mouth to argue that it was often how their best songs started, but shut it again. “Keeping secrets from me, Payno?” he asked instead, and fuck, no, that was even worse. The guilty look Liam threw him made Louis feel like a piece of shit, which he guessed he deserved. “Just joking,” he added, too late, before walking up to Liam and poking him in the chest with his finger. “I’ll get it out of you sooner or later,” he said, because apparently his mouth was running on a separate program which sole purpose was to ruin Louis’s life.

He didn’t expect the tiny smile tugging at the corner of Liam’s lips, or the way his hand closed around Louis’s, keeping it pressed to his chest. His skin still radiated heat and he smelled like fresh sweat and when the fuck had that stopped being disgusting and turned into something that made Louis’s fingertips tingle?!

“You can try,” Liam said, properly smiling now, and Louis tugged his hand free, then made to twist Liam’s nipple, but Liam caught his wrist effortlessly, pressing it down Louis’s side. The situation felt eerily familiar, until Liam leaned forward. His breath was hot against Louis’s cheek, and for one crazy second Louis thought that Liam was going to kiss him.

“You should probably find some new tricks,” Liam whispered, lips brushing against the shell of Louis’s ear, before releasing Louis’s wrist.

By the time Louis had come back to his senses enough to think about whipping him with his wet towel, Liam was already singing under the shower.

\--

Louis stared at the phone the entire time it took for Liam to get showered and dressed, but did not touch it, which he thought was quite noble, all things considered. There was also the fact he did not know Liam’s password pattern, but he could have tried to crack it, and he didn’t.

He still looked up guiltily from his spot on the couch when Liam finally reappeared, hair still damp from the shower, in a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants riding so low on his hips it was bordering on indecency.

Liam glanced at the desk he'd left his phone on, then came to sit down next to Louis, who wrenched his eyes away from Liam's midriff to finally look into his eyes.

“Did you have a look at the lyrics?” Liam asked, and Louis was about to protest, say he'd never think of snooping, when he realized Liam was talking about what he'd written in the notebook.

“Of course,” he said, getting up to retrieve the notebook from its spot on the floor. He sat back on the couch, folding his legs under him, and looked at the lyrics for a while before motioning blindly for a pen, which Liam slipped into his fingers instantly, as if he'd been waiting for it.

They worked all afternoon, sometimes in silent concentration, sometimes humming broken bits of melodies, passing the notebook back and forth between them, amending what the other had written or adding to it (and in Louis's case, drawing quite a few dicks in the margins, because Liam expected no less from him and he didn't like to disappoint), moving through the rooms as if they were tracking inspiration down. Liam could sit relatively still but Louis needed to always be moving for his mind to stay sharp.

By the time their stomachs started clamoring for food, they had a solid basis for a song, upbeat lyrics that perfectly complemented the beat they'd come up with the night before. Because if Louis had somewhat expected Liam's contribution to be about heartache and pain, a delayed reaction to his break-up with Sophia, he was proven dead wrong. Liam steered the song towards themes of change, turning a new leaf and finding who you really were, and there were hints of a hope for new love that Liam refused to discuss when Louis pointed them out to him.

“C’mon, Payno, you should know by now you can’t keep anything from me,” Louis insisted an hour later, pointing his fork accusingly at Liam over his plate of fancy raviolis. There may have been white truffle in there, although after all this time Louis still had no idea what white truffle was supposed to taste like. They’d gone down to the posh hotel restaurant for dinner to get a proper break, and had ended up picking dishes at random from the French part of the menu.

“Will you drop it?! I’m not hiding anything!” Liam said in what Louis thought was a slightly squeakier voice than usual, staring down at his plate of… Louis had no idea what that was. Meatloaf, maybe? Except posh.

The thing was, Louis had no idea why he was even insisting. He resolutely did _not_ want to know whether or not Liam was fancying somebody new. Good for Liam if that was the case, of course, but… Louis just wasn’t interested; he didn’t have to be interested in everything Liam did, alright?

He stabbed at his raviolis for a while, refraining from pushing the matter further.

“Hey, so, what d’you think about these two?” Liam suddenly asked in hushed tones, tipping his chin towards a nearby table. The embodiment of a sugar daddy was sharing dinner with a woman young enough to be his daughter, blatantly staring at her cleavage while she talked about something or other.

Louis smirked. This, he could handle. Making up the lives of strangers was something he and Liam had done since pretty much the start of their friendship, and Louis had mastered the art of making Liam nearly piss himself with the tales he spun.

He put his all into it tonight, whispering stories about everyone in the restaurant while Liam laughed loud and clear, blushing so fetchingly whenever people threw snooty glares their way that Louis made it his mission to make him laugh as much and as loudly as possible, coming up with the most sordid, Eastenders worthy backstories for each and every one of the uppity patrons.

Liam went straight back to writing when they got back to their room, but Louis flopped down on one of the beds, feeling full of food but blissfully empty of thought. Before long Liam relocated to the bedroom, sitting cross-legged next to Louis, scribbling and humming under his breath. At least this time he was using the notebook, so Louis knew he'd get to hear whatever Liam came up with.

He stared at Liam’s back for a while, trying to figure out the words Liam kept muttering, before getting up and fetching a packet of crisps from the mini-bar. He dropped back down on the bed, lying on his back and propping his head up against Liam’s thigh, nibbling at his crisps without thinking about anything much. He’d usually have felt bored, all this silence and nothing to focus his attention on, but for now this was enough, this quiet intimacy and the soft sounds of Liam working next to him, Liam’s forearm brushing against the top of Louis’s head as he wrote.

“Can I have one of those?” Liam asked, not looking up from what he was writing, and not reaching out either. Louis dug up a crisp and held it up in front of Liam’s mouth, but moved his hand away an inch when Liam tried to eat it, then again a second time. Liam let his mouth fall open then, not moving forward, and Louis slid the crisp between his lips. The tip of Liam’s tongue brushed against Louis’s fingertips as he swiped the crisp to the back of his mouth, then his lips pressed against them in a kiss, his eyes still firmly focused on the notebook in his lap. Louis blindly fetched another crisp and held his hand back up, brain on standstill, gaze fixed on Liam’s mouth. Liam parted his lips again, this time not even trying to get the crisp himself, and Louis slid it inside, pressing his fingers further in. Liam’s teeth gently closed around them, tongue flicking against Louis’s fingertips to lap at the salt clinging to them, then his mouth fell open again and Louis took his hand away and back down to his lap, cheeks blazing up with embarrassment even though he wasn’t sure why.

He rolled on to his side so he wouldn’t be able to look at Liam’s face anymore, curling up in a ball, the hand that wasn’t still wet with Liam’s spit coming up to grab at Liam’s sock-clad toes, peeking out from under his thigh. Liam wriggled his toes in Louis’s grip as if in a greeting, then fell still as Louis started stroking the ball of his foot with his thumb.

Liam started singing then, voice barely more than a whisper, but loud enough for Louis to finally be able to make out the words. _This_ was the song Louis had been expecting earlier on, a song about love found then lost, about regrets. Although… the more Liam sang, the harder it became for Louis to be sure it was about a breakup. It may have been that the love Liam was singing about had not yet turned into something that could be lost; something about it felt… unfinished, unrealised.

“Sing that last bit again?” Louis said, shifting to get his head more comfortably settled on Liam's thigh.

“Falling was the best part, but now you know, the things you cling to your heart can start to grow,” Liam sang, voice soft and a little rough.

“Yeah, that bit's really good…” Louis murmured.

Liam's fingers slipped in his hair, gently stroking it, and Louis closed his eyes, lulled to sleep by the melody Liam was still humming.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Can’t believe a guy woke up one day and thought, y’know what, I’m going to build a big-ass metal tower for no good reason at all,” Louis mused as Liam took a few steps back, trying to fit all of it onto his phone screen._
> 
> _As if in answer to his sarcasm, the tower sparkled into life, a twinkling giant in the middle of the starless sky, useless and indispensable all at the same time._
> 
> _Strong arms wrapped around Louis’s waist from behind, hands slipping into the front pouch pocket of Louis’s hoodie. “Wouldn’t really be Paris without it, though,” Liam softly said, resting his chin on Louis’s shoulder. His beard was soft against Louis’s stubbly cheek and it was so much easier to give in than step back._  
>   
>  3rd day of the Paris trip. In which I'm basically as in love with Paris as Lilo are in love with each other, except I'm not kidding myself into thinking me and Paris are just friends.

# CHAPTER SIX

  
  


They stayed holed up in their hotel room the next couple of days, ordering room service and dividing their time between writing and playing. Nobody seemed to know they were in France, and no picture had emerged of their trip to the Luxembourg gardens, but they didn't want to push their luck. Being able to take smoking breaks on the balcony without throngs of screaming fans gathering in the street below was a luxury they knew how to treasure.

They'd gotten enough material for three songs and were struggling with a fourth one when Liam finally closed his notebook and slumped backwards on the bed, throwing his pen across the room.

“We need to get out,” he said, turning doleful eyes to the priceless antique desk Louis was sitting on. “I think I've got cabin fever.”

“Thinking about murdering me, are you?” Louis teased, hopping down from the desk. Truth be told, he wouldn't have said no to some fresh air. He hadn't stayed in such close quarters with Liam since their tour bus days and his thoughts were getting muddled again. The couple of teasing texts Harry had sent him admittedly hadn’t helped.

“No, not really,” Liam said, looking at everything but Louis's face, which was, well, weird. Louis opened his mouth to pry, then closed it. After the phone incident he'd promised himself to stop being too nosy for his own good.

“Where d'you fancy going?” he asked instead. It was late in the day and night was already falling softly over the city, covering everything in gray shadows that would hopefully make it easier for them to go unnoticed.

“I don't know. Maybe… we could just walk around a bit? I haven't exercised since that bike ride the other day.”

“Oh no, we're not going anywhere if you turn it into something _healthy_ ,” Louis said, mock-shuddering, but he was already bending down to look under the furniture in an attempt at finding his shoes.

They wandered around at random, ending up on the borders of the Seine and following the quays in the direction of the Eiffel Tower. The sky had been cloudy all day but it did not matter now that night had fallen and the city was aglow with a thousand lights, shop windows and neon signs and cars and spotlights everywhere because it felt like every other building was a national treasure. It was a cool spring night and the quays were almost deserted; for a while, it was easy to pretend like he and Liam were just nobodies, two nameless boys with mundane lives taking a stroll in one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

They didn’t talk much, content to just be in each other’s company, stopping every so often to take the sights in and snap a selfie or two. Liam’s eyes were doing that thing where they seemed to be literally twinkling with happiness and Louis felt so light on his feet he wouldn’t have been surprised to float away. He hopped on every bench and pretended every sidewalk border was a tightrope, sitting on bridges with his feet dangling above the water, bellowing lines from Midnight Memories at random and somehow managing to sing even louder when Liam joined him with that fucking perfect voice of his.

They stopped on the sidewalk across from the Eiffel Tower, not willing to risk being spotted by the throngs of tourists that were still milling under it, standing side by side with their noses turned up in the air.

“Can’t believe a guy woke up one day and thought, y’know what, I’m going to build a big-ass metal tower for no good reason at all,” Louis mused as Liam took a few steps back, trying to fit all of it onto his phone screen.

As if in answer to his sarcasm, the tower sparkled into life, a twinkling giant in the middle of the starless sky, useless and indispensable all at the same time.

Strong arms wrapped around Louis’s waist from behind, hands slipping into the front pouch pocket of Louis’s hoodie. “Wouldn’t really be Paris without it, though,” Liam softly said, resting his chin on Louis’s shoulder. His beard was soft against Louis’s stubbly cheek and it was so much easier to give in than step back.

“I guess,” Louis said, letting his eyes fall shut and gently pressing his cheek against Liam’s. He could feel Liam’s eyelashes fluttering against his temple, and neither of them was even looking at the tower now, but it didn’t seem to matter. Louis slipped his own hands into his pouch pocket, fingers gently covering Liam’s broader hands, because surely it didn’t count if nobody could see it.

Louis’s eyes flashed open when a fat drop of water landed squarely between his eyebrows, worried for one second that a pigeon might have finally shat on him (he’d had a couple near misses, because Paris was overrun with incontinent flying rats that seemed to have a thing for British guys), but a second drop fell on his nose, then his cheek, until suddenly, without buildup or warning, the entire sky opened over their heads in a downpour of epical proportions.

They broke apart with a gasp, drenched in a matter of seconds, their hair plastered to their faces.

“Fuck!” Louis gasped, eloquently, before looking around for some place to take shelter, but every inch of covered ground was already filling up with panicked tourists and pissed off Parisians and Louis did not feel like mingling. He turned to Liam, who was just standing there, mouth opened in shock, and grabbed his wrist without thought, pulling him into motion until they were both running, arms raised over their heads as if they would make a shred of difference against the downpour.

“C’mon,” Louis yelled, dodging to the side as a passing car sent a spray of water his way, “we passed a subway station a block back, we can just hop over the turnstile!”

Louis slowed down when he realized Liam had stopped running, and turned around. Liam was standing in the middle of the road, palms turned forward in a gesture of helplessness, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“C’mon, Payno, or we’ll-”

“What? Get drenched? I’m already soaked through!” Liam called back, shaking his hair like a dog.

Louis walked back to him, letting his arms fall down to his sides. A familiar feeling was rising in him like a bubble, but he couldn’t quite place it. “So what do we do? Stay there, in the rain?”

“Might as well,” Liam said with a grin, reaching out and grabbing a hold of Louis's hoodie to tug him forward. He looked so fucking happy that it seemed to radiate out of him, hitting Louis in waves and leaving him breathless. The scene was so, so familiar, and as he looked at Liam, laughing in the rain, his hairdo shot to shit by the water, Louis understood where that feeling of sheer joy was coming from. He beamed when Liam leaned forward and mirrored his movement until their foreheads were pressed together, and then he let the laughter out.

It felt like being whisked back in time, minus the deafening roar of the fans’ screams and the blinding spotlights, high on adrenalin and burning up with a joy so huge they needed to let it out somehow. It had started with a spray and ended up in showers of Gatorade and entire buckets of water, just another part of the show that had become just another part of them, a public display of affection that was way more private than anything they’d done on stage before.

Louis closed his eyes and let Liam wrap his arms around him and pull him into a hug, pressing his mouth to Liam's soaked jacket in a weird half-kiss. He was getting cold from the rain and being pressed against Liam's drenched clothes was making it even worse, but Louis wouldn't have moved for the world. He could even hear the familiar screams, on a lower scale than he remembered, but very much there still.

“Oh, shit,” Liam whispered before straightening up. Louis was about to protest, but the high-pitched squealing got closer and Louis suddenly realized it hadn’t been in his head. They’d been spotted.

Louis glanced up at Liam, but he was looking away, his fan-face already on, the one that made even grown women want to burst into tears. Sometimes Louis understood where they were coming from. He certainly understood it now.

The two girls were young, and French, and rather pretty. They were flustered but didn’t cry, which was always nice, and they had two umbrellas, which brought Louis and Liam a respite from the rain. One of them spoke English well enough to actually hold a conversation after the mandatory pictures had been taken, and Louis tried to say a few sentences in French. Judging from the girls’ embarrassed smiles he was clearly shit at it but Liam was looking at him like Louis had done a triple kickflip and he felt himself getting hot under the collar, despite still being wet through and through.

They made the fans swear not to share those pictures or tell anyone that they were in Paris until the following week; they probably would do it sooner than that, but it was worth a try. The girls insisted on giving them one of their umbrellas, which was definitely awkward especially since neither Louis nor Liam had anything to give them in return. Louis drew a little umbrella on the autograph he signed for them, and Liam added rainclouds over it. The girls looked delighted, which Louis guessed was ultimately the only thing that really mattered.

“What did you tell them?” Liam asked once they’d started walking away, Louis holding the umbrella over their heads. “In French, I mean.”

“Well I _tried_ to say we were delighted to be in Paris and that I hoped we’d get to come touring again and that they’d liked the album, but I’m not really sure that’s what came out,” Louis said with a grimace.

“You sounded really good,” Liam said earnestly. “I mean… your French sounded good.”

Louis glanced at him. The umbrella wasn’t very big and they were huddling close as they walked, trying to both fit under it. He thought back to their hug in the rain. He kinda wished those girls hadn’t recognized them.

They walked like that for a while, listening to the patter of the rain above their heads. Liam’s right hand kept bumping against Louis’s hip and after a while Louis switched the umbrella from his left hand to his right as inconspicuously as he could, which probably didn’t amount to much, then let his left arm dangle by his side. Liam’s hand bumped against Louis’s a couple times before stopping, as if Liam had just realized something was different, but then his middle finger hooked around Louis’s, keeping his hand close. Louis smiled to himself, and very carefully pretended not to notice the cabs waiting on the curb. It wasn’t like they were in any hurry to get anywhere.

\--

By the time they got back to the hotel, they were mostly dry, but they both took a shower anyway, reclining on Liam's bed wearing the hotel's oversized bathrobes, distractedly watching the first episodes of The Musketeers on the flatscreen. They kept starting shows and forgetting to watch them to the end, dazzled by the sheer number of them, too eager to sample everything they'd missed during their 5-year work marathon.

So far Louis quite liked that particular series. He couldn't keep the musketeers’ names straight, but the actress playing the queen was decidedly nice to look at and he'd always enjoyed a good sword fight. He also kept losing track of the plot, but that had more to do with the way Liam had let him cuddle up to him so that Louis's head was pillowed on Liam's chest, and Louis's eyes kept getting distracted by the sliver of skin peeking out from in between the lapels of Liam's bathrobe.

“Everything alright?” Liam asked as Louis shifted restlessly for what must have been the tenth time. “I'm not comfortable enough?”

“You're all muscles, it's like cuddling up with an iron board,” Louis huffed, rather unfairly considering the thickness of the robe and the fact that Liam had always been perfect as cuddling material. He poked Liam in the stomach, then slithered a hand under Liam's robe. “See?” he said, prodding at Liam's belly; “There's zero fat to cushion my delicate skin. You’ve got no padding.”

Liam pinched Louis's hip through his robe. “Padding looks much better on you,” he said, sounding disgustingly genuine.

Louis felt his cheeks heat up and slid his hand upwards to tug at Liam's chest hair. “You're a bear,” he said, not quite sure where he was going with that. He flattened his hand over Liam's chest and left it there, turning his attention back to the TV. People were still fighting, so he probably hadn't missed much.

He couldn't have said when he'd drifted off, but at some point Liam shook him awake and made him change into actual clothes. Louis crawled back into bed and hogged the covers until Liam had no choice but to spoon him to get some warmth, and promptly fell back to sleep.

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _By the time the end of their trip rolled by, Louis had taken to waking up with the hot press of Liam’s palm between his shoulder blades or on his lower back, their legs tangled together, bodies tucked in close, skin sweaty from the heat they gave off in the night. It wasn’t that different from stuff they’d done before, Louis kept telling himself, although he had to admit it had never happened so many nights in a row._  
>   
>   
>  In which pretty much _everything_ is getting harder... (no I won't apologize for this horrible pun)

# CHAPTER SEVEN

  
  


By the time the end of their trip rolled by, Louis had taken to waking up with the hot press of Liam’s palm between his shoulder blades or on his lower back, their legs tangled together, bodies tucked in close, skin sweaty from the heat they gave off in the night. It wasn’t that different from stuff they’d done before, Louis kept telling himself, although he had to admit it had never happened so many nights in a row. Every day he told himself that he would sleep in his own bed that night, but every evening found Liam sitting slumped against Louis like a limpet and mumbling “Let’s go to bed” against Louis’s neck, and Louis would follow Liam to his ensuite bedroom without quite registering what he was doing. More than once he dimly wondered if the maids were gossiping about the second bed, its flowery bedspread and stupid throw pillows still pristine after all this time.

“‘morning,” Liam mumbled against Louis’s cheek on their last morning in Paris, his hand sneaking under Louis’s shirt in search of skin. Louis didn’t reply, keeping his eyes carefully shut even though he’d been awake for an hour, according to the distant church bells.

Liam stroke the sole of Louis’s foot with his big toe, making Louis’s leg jerk, but Louis still played dead, determined to drag their last morning as much as possible. He did his best impression of a sleepy grumble when Liam sat up, wrapping an arm around his waist and scooting closer until he realized his face was pressed against Liam’s arse and turned around, cheeks flaming.

“Good morning. I’d like to order breakfast?” Liam whispered into the phone. Louis grinned and hugged his pillow to his chest as Liam made his order, getting everything Louis wanted to eat without Louis needing to ask him. Which was good, because Louis wasn’t done pretending to be asleep quite yet. He rolled back on his other side when he felt Liam lying back down, throwing a leg over Liam’s hips to make sure the lad wouldn’t try anything stupid, like actually getting up. He felt Liam’s fingertips on his cheek and kept his features carefully relaxed even as Liam trailed his fingers down to Louis’s neck.

“I know you’re awake, Lou. Your eyes are twitching.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Louis said. “Also, there’s a dead rat in your mouth,” he added out of spite, careful to speak with his own mouth angled towards the mattress.

Liam chuckled and blew right into Louis’s nose. Louis squawked and sat up, grabbing his pillow in the same movement and jamming it down on Liam’s face.

It seemed that he was becoming a bit too predictable, however, because Liam already had his hands up and snatched the pillow right out of Louis’s grasp, throwing it behind him without looking. The pillow crashed into one of the bedside lamps, making Liam turn to assess the damage, and Louis used the distraction to his advantage and threw himself at Liam’s back, sending them both tumbling to the carpeted floor.

He managed to keep his hold on Liam’s back as they hit the floor on their sides, sneaking his legs around Liam’s hips and hooking them at the ankle. He hadn’t thought about what he’d do once he’d gotten Liam down, so he wrapped his arms more tightly around Liam’s torso and waited to see what Liam would do, hoping he’d be able to hold on.

He didn’t have to wait long. After the initial shock had passed, Liam rolled onto his front and got up on his hands and knees as if he didn’t have a Tomlinson specimen clinging to his back. Louis almost lost his hold on him, dangerously tipping sideways for a second before throwing his weight to the other side.

“My god, Payno, you’re a monster,” he said, voice strangled. He tried to remember that this would usually have annoyed him to no end, having Liam act as if Louis was a lightweight, but the ease with which Liam kneeled up and wrangled Louis’s legs away from his hips made something hot unfurl deep in Louis’s gut. He tightened his arms around Liam’s shoulders, but the next thing he knew Liam had somehow managed to shake him off and, quick as a snake, turned around to push him to the ground, sitting on his legs and going straight for his belly with wriggling fingers, because Liam was the _worst_.

“Don’t you fucking… dare…” Louis gasped out, already laughing, trying to twist away from Liam’s fingers, pushing at Liam’s chest with all his might and yet having as much effect as a fucking light breeze. Out of desperation he aimed for Liam’s crotch, and _that_ got Liam off of him fast, before Louis’s fingers could even make contact.

“Foul play!” Liam squeaked out, hands protectively shielding his crotch from any new attack as he sat on the carpet, looking flushed.

Louis didn’t waste time savoring his victory. He rolled on his front and scrambled to his hands and feet, hoping to get to the living room before Liam could react. If he could make it to the couch then the throw pillows would give him a definite advantage. But he’d barely crossed the door when Liam’s hand closed over his ankle and yanked him back; Louis lost his grip and fell flat on his stomach with a groan, wriggling around to at least try and knee Liam in the nuts while he still could. He knew he should have devoted _some_ of his free time to hitting the gym, it was just that there were always more interesting things to do, like go for a drink or mess with people on Twitter. But of course fucking Liam Payne had spent the entire break doing crunches and push-ups and whatever else he did as exercise (probably lifting entire trains, Mr Incredible-style). It was the only explanation as to how he could so easily hold Louis down.

He didn’t even get time to push his knee up that Liam already had him pinned to the floor again, straddling Louis’s legs and getting hold of his flailing arms like it was nothing, pressing Louis’s wrists to the carpet on either side of his head. Liam leaned over him with a little smile, warm and solid and so fucking cocky and. Louis may have had a problem. A very _visible_ problem, considering the fact they'd been wrestling in nothing but their pants and t-shirts.

Louis made sure not to look down, and experimentally tried to shake his wrists free of Liam's grasp, in vain. In any other circumstance he'd have bucked up to try and unsettle Liam, but for all intents and purposes it was best if his middle stayed as far away from Liam's body as possible.

They stared each other down for a while, both of them panting, and then Liam _did_ glance down the length of Louis’s body, and Louis made a silent prayer to whoever might be listening for Liam not to say anything. When Liam looked back up, his eyes were dark and wide and Louis squeezed his own eyes shut to get away from that stare. _Please don’t say anything, please, please, please don’t say anything._

It had happened before, and regardless of who got a stiffy Louis had always mercilessly teased Liam about it for days after the fact, but. There was no way to turn this into a joke. There was no hiding, not when Louis felt himself unraveling in a hot flash of naked want.

“Giving up already?” he heard Liam ask, voice raw, and then Liam shifted over him; for a second Louis thought he was about to get away, but then Liam stretched his legs so his hips came pressing down against Louis's and, and, and...

Louis’s eyes snapped open as Liam's fingers slowly tightened around his wrists. Liam wasn’t smiling anymore, but he wasn't moving away either, didn't move away even when Louis shifted under him, breath catching in his throat as his cock brushed against something that was definitely Liam’s cock, quite unmistakably hard.

Louis couldn't think past the heady cloud of arousal, his brain lost to a sensory overload, torn between the various pressure points exerted by Liam's fingertips, his hips, his hardening cock, by the sight of his overblown pupils, the brush of his erratic breathing across Louis's mouth. He had to put a stop to this, had to get a grip, but he couldn't do anything but look at Liam and shift his hips again in a movement that was too small to be proper humping but already too big to be passed off as anything but sexual.

It took a few seconds for either of them to register the insistent knocking on the door, but by the time the click and beep of a keycard snapped through the silence, followed instantly by a polite “Room service!”, they'd gotten back to their senses enough to scramble up from the floor, standing a few feet apart and, at least in Louis’s case, desperately trying to look natural.

From the dubious look the bellboy directed at them as he wheeled the trolley to the center of the suite's living room, he wasn’t about to win any award. Louis glanced at himself in one of the big gilded mirrors that were strewn around the room; his hair was mussed to shit and he looked as if he'd just smoked a joint, not to mention the unmistakable bulge in his pants.

He couldn't make himself look at Liam. He heard him thank and tip the bellboy, heard the door open and close, and then silence, heavy and oppressive, until he had no choice but to look.

Liam was standing in front of the door, unmoving, gaze fixed on Louis. He looked… he looked a picture perfect of the reflection Louis had seen in the mirror, which Louis hadn't expected. He also looked confused, and possibly… disappointed. Louis was quite sure that particular down slant to Liam's lips was disappointment.

Louis looked away.

“I'll go take a shower. Don't eat all the scrambled eggs,” he said before locking himself up in the bathroom. He hadn’t thought there’d ever come a day when he would want to hide from Liam, but he guessed there was a first for everything.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It felt like forever and no time at all before they were standing on the platform in Saint Pancras, bags at their feet, and Louis wasn't sure who had initiated the hug this time but he was determined not to let go._
> 
> _“Thanks again, for everything,” Liam said, face buried against Louis's jacket._
> 
> _“Don't mention it. I actually used your credit card to pay for everything.”_
> 
> _Liam laughed, low and fond, and leaned back, but did not release his hold on Louis. “So… Have you got anything planned for tomorrow?”_  
>   
>  In which all good things come to an end.

# CHAPTER EIGHT

  
  


Apart from one nervous glance when Louis finally reappeared, after punishing himself with a 20 minutes long ice cold shower, Liam acted the picture of normalcy, letting Louis steal from his plate even though he'd ordered two servings of everything, fixing Louis's tea exactly the right way, nudging Louis's foot with his own under the table.

They talked about everything they'd be able to make the boys jealous about, even though they both knew their recces only meant something to them. Liam laughed in all the right places and showed Louis the pictures he'd snapped with his phone as if Louis hadn't been with him every step of the way. He did, however, stop before reaching the end of the camera roll and turned his phone off with an embarrassed smile, like he was afraid Louis had grown bored, and Louis wondered if that might be the first in a series of awkward moments all resulting from him being a fucking idiot.

They checked out before noon and Louis found himself lingering one beat too long in the doorway, remiss in a way he'd never felt before upon leaving another impersonal overdone hotel bedroom.

“Are you coming?” Liam softly asked him, keeping the lift doors open with one leg against the sensors.

Louis turned to him, letting the door to the suite swing shut. He couldn’t find a way to tell Liam about that empty space inside of him, the space that still wanted more, more mornings waking up wrapped up in one another, more nights spent writing, more friendship, more Liam.

“Yeah, let’s go or you’ll make us miss the train,” Louis said, striding to the lift.

Liam chuckled, but it sounded hollow. The problem with Louis's brilliant ideas, he was starting to realize, was that he rarely thought them through.

\--

Louis spent the train ride back home faking sleep on Liam’s shoulder, iPod turned up to max level in an attempt at drowning out his thoughts. If Liam minded the noise, he didn’t say anything out loud, playing games on his phone one-handed, his other arm wrapped around Louis’s back, fingers fiddling with the fabric of Louis’s jacket. He heard the snap of a camera once or twice, wondered if Liam was taking selfies, if he’d share them with him. The thought made him screw his eyes even more tightly shut, trying his best not to nuzzle his face against Liam’s neck. The anger bubbling up inside of him made no sense but would not go away.

It felt like forever and no time at all before they were standing on the platform in Saint Pancras, bags at their feet, and Louis wasn't sure who had initiated the hug this time but he was determined not to let go. 

“Thanks again, for everything,” Liam said, face buried against Louis's jacket.

“Don't mention it. I actually used your credit card to pay for everything.”

Liam laughed, low and fond, and leaned back, but did not release his hold on Louis. “So… Have you got anything planned for tomorrow?”

Louis's heartbeat picked up. “Nope,” he said, confident in the knowledge that he could always cancel whatever he actually had planned. “Free as a bird.”

Liam stepped away, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at Louis's shoulder instead of his face. “D'you wanna crash at my place for tonight?” he asked, and Louis really must have been losing his head because he could have sworn Liam was blushing.

“Why not,” Louis said, hoping his voice was casual instead of hysterical. “I understand sleeping without me must be daunting for you.”

Liam rolled his eyes and slapped Louis over the head before heading for the exit.

“Hey, that's brutality, that is!” Louis called after him, picking up his own bag. “If that's what I can expect from this evening then I'm not sure I want to come!”

“Of course you want to come,” Liam called back, throwing Louis the cockiest smile above his shoulder.

Someone had had a terrible influence on that boy, Louis thought as he followed Liam out to the cab station. Louis really wished he could have pinned the blame on someone else but himself.

\--

Liam's clothes had been folded and carefully put away in his bedroom drawers. The dishes they'd used for dinner were in the dishwasher, the pots left to bathe in the sink. Louis's bag was torn open in the hallway, half his clothes spilled out in the search for a clean t-shirt, his coat, shoes and socks scattered in a straight line from the hall to the living-room couch.

It felt like home in a way Louis's own flat never did.

“You're letting me win,” Liam said, making his little player do a cartwheel on the virtual lawn after scoring yet another goal.

“I just don't want you to feel too inadequate, that's all,” Louis said. He couldn't well admit that the reason Liam had won three games in a row was because the pressure of his thigh against Louis's and the soft stroking of his socked-clad toes on Louis's naked foot had shot Louis's concentration to shit more than an hour ago. It was a miracle his players weren't blindly running into walls by this point, really.

Liam shoved him with his elbow. “I can kick your sorry arse just fine, you don't have to coddle me.”

“Of course I have to coddle you, Liam, that's what I'm best at.”

“Yeah, right,” Liam mumbled with a grin, focusing his attention back on the screen. Louis made a half-arsed attempt at scoring, but ended up overshooting it by a mile.

“I'm starting to wonder if you haven't just lost your touch, old man,” Liam said, and really that gleeful tone was completely out of line.

“You take that back,” Louis ordered, reaching out to twist Liam’s nipple through his t-shirt.

“Whatever you say, old timer,” Liam said, not even protesting about the nipple-twist, which only infuriated Louis more. He pinched Liam’s waist next, before leaning to the side and nipping at Liam’s neck, then sucking on the skin, pressing his lips against the taut muscle.

“Oh, come on,” Liam chuckled, shrugging to try and dislodge Louis, rather half-heartedly if you asked him. He kept on sucking, wrapping one hand around the other side of Liam’s neck to keep him close.

“You're a child,” Liam added, but he tilted his head to the side to give Louis better access, and his left arm sneaked around Louis's waist, thumb gently pressing against his hip.

Soon enough Louis was straddling Liam's lap, pushing the hand that was still gamely trying to operate the controller with his knee. There was a clunk as it tumbled from the couch to the floor, but Louis ignored it and Liam didn’t say anything.

He’d given Liam many love bites over the years, but it had never felt like this. They’d been playful and teasing and alright, maybe they’d been meant to mark Liam as his own, but that was just how Louis worked, poking and prodding at the things he loved to make sure they were still there, still his. The urge had admittedly always been stronger with Liam; he was the only one Louis actively branded, because Liam was the best human being Louis had ever met and if he didn’t make it clear to all and sundry that Liam was his, then someone might just swoop in and take him away for themselves. He had gotten a bit crazy with it during the first months of Liam and Sophia’s relationship, just to make sure Sophia didn’t forget who Liam’s best friend was, so she didn’t fool herself into thinking she could have all of Liam’s (admittedly gigantic) heart. But that was just common sense.

Now there was no threat to ward against, no need to tell anyone Liam was his. And yet the urge to brand him had never been this strong before; Louis could hardly breathe from the strength of it.

He finally let go of Liam’s neck with a wet smacking sound that rang loud in his ears, looking down at his handiwork, thumb brushing against the abused skin.

“Don’t stop.”

Louis froze. He kept his eyes fixed on Liam’s neck, not daring to look up, not daring to move at all. Surely he’d just imagined that.

He waited for a breath, then two. Then Liam’s hands came to rest on his hips, gentle but steady, and what the fuck was Louis supposed to do, really, he was only human and Liam had said “don’t stop” and his neck was right _there_.

Louis bent down again, tugging Liam’s t-shirt away to fasten his lips around the hard curve of his collarbone. He figured Liam would push him away if he’d gotten it wrong, but apart from the strengthening grip on his hips, nothing happened, and soon enough Louis was lost, the feel of Liam’s skin against his tongue and the smell of him shortcircuiting his brain. He rested the hand that wasn’t tugging at Liam’s collar on Liam’s chest and that only made things worse, because Liam’s heartbeat was wild under Louis’s palm, his chest heaving with each breath he took.

By the time he got started on a third love bite, on the taut skin right under Liam’s jaw, Louis was half-hard and desperately trying not to grind down against Liam’s lap, even though the idea sounded more appealing and less crazy by the second. He wondered if Liam was hard, which didn’t help his problem any, wondered why Liam hadn’t pushed him away yet, how many times Louis could mark him before he would call a stop to it, _if_ he would call a stop to it.

Liam’s hands moved down Louis’s legs, grip strong and firm, his thumbs rubbing slow circles over Louis’s inner thighs. Every minute pressure from Liam’s fingers seemed to send jolts of electricity straight to Louis’s cock, and the strain from trying to keep his hips still was so high Louis felt sweat forming on his lower back. He softly closed his teeth around Liam’s shoulder, not sucking but gently biting, his body desperate to release the pressure in any way it could that wasn’t dry humping Liam’s lap or moaning his heart out. Liam shivered under him as Louis bit a little harder, and his right hand crept further up Louis’s thigh until the tip of his thumb brushed against the flies of his jeans.

“I’d better go make some tea!” Louis all but shouted, scrambling off Liam’s lap and stumbling to the kitchen. His hands were shaking so badly he almost dropped the kettle to the floor, but he managed to get it filled and on its way to heating up. He leaned against the central counter and let himself slide to the floor, pressing his forehead against his bent knees. He was so hard he wanted to cry, and he clenched his hands around his calves to keep them from sliding down to his crotch.

He was out of control. He was out of control and if he didn’t stop this shit soon he was going to fuck up his friendship with Liam beyond any chance of repair, just because his brain had apparently forgotten the difference between love and lust. Even now, the only thing he could think about was Liam’s thumb brushing against his crotch, and it was so easy to imagine Liam’s hand moving up so he was properly palming Louis’s cock through his jeans, pressing down in just the right way and - “Get a fucking grip!” Louis muttered to himself as the boiler started whistling.

“Lou…”

It was just one word, but there was enough hurt and incomprehension in it to make Louis's stomach clench. He kept on staring at the tiled floor between his knees, hating himself for being such a coward but unable to look up and see… whatever there was to see in Liam's face right then.

He felt Liam hovering at the entrance to the kitchen. Every second made the bile rise a little higher in his throat. Great. First he’d gotten hard in his best friend's lap and now he was going to throw up all over his kitchen. “Tea’s ready,” he choked out, getting off the floor on shaky legs. He took some mugs out and busied himself with the water and the tea leaves, careful not to look at anything but his hands, but he could still feel Liam getting closer, one step at a time, until he was standing right behind Louis, not touching him and yet squeezing the breath out of Louis’s lungs.

“Louis?”

“There you go!” Louis said, turning around and shoving a steaming hot mug into Liam's hand. They were standing so close together he very nearly splashed the whole thing on the front of Liam's jumper.

Liam looked down at the mug, then leaned forward. Louis held his breath in.

Liam placed the mug back on the counter behind Louis and straightened up. “I don't want tea,” he said softly, and the fact that he didn't even thank Louis for it shouldn't have been a blow, especially since Liam hadn't even asked for tea in the first place, but Liam was always polite to the point of obnoxiousness and Louis’s stomach dropped.

Liam didn't say anything more, scrutinising Louis’s face as if he was searching for something, and Louis felt himself unravelling.

He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss him so badly he couldn’t breathe.

“Gotta go,” he blurted out instead, sidling away so he wasn't trapped between Liam and the counter anymore, casting about for something to focus his attention on. “Got people to meet… completely forgot.”

It was such a load of crap, and he knew Liam wouldn’t be fooled for even a split-second, but he couldn’t think of anything better. He needed to get far, far away from here, as fast as possible, before he did something he couldn’t take back.

“At eleven in the evening?” he heard Liam ask, voice flat.

Louis frantically racked his brain for a name, an excuse, but came up empty. He never lied to Liam. He didn't know how to, really. Those damn puppy eyes always got the truth out of him.

Which is why Louis was very careful not to look at Liam's face at all, not even when he gave him a perfunctory hug, mumbling a list of made-up names and places that were probably worse than if he hadn't given an excuse for his sudden departure.

Liam grabbed at Louis's t-shirt when they hugged, but didn't really hold on when Louis stepped back.

“We’ll see each other next week anyway, at the Brits, won't we?” Louis said, shoving his hands in his pockets to refrain from reaching out. What if he just said ‘Fuck it’ and kissed Liam right now? What was the worst that could happen, really? Apart from the loss of the most important friendship he'd ever made and the destruction of not only his career and dreams, but those of his three best friends as well?

“I'm really sorry,” he said, then left the kitchen, grabbing his shoes from their spot near the staircase, gathering most of his clothes back into his travelling bag, and rushing out the door.

He’d left his car back at the train station, and there was no way he’d wait around for a cab, so he set off on foot, then started jogging. Five minutes later he was full out running, feet pounding the pavement, every muscle in his body protesting against the exercise and fuck, when had he got so out of shape? He had to stop after two blocks, lungs burning, but at least the adrenaline had left his brain blissfully empty. All he could focus on were his aching legs and the vicious stitch in his side. He kept on walking through it, too afraid of being spotted if he stayed in the same place for too long, pulling the hood of the sweater he’d grabbed on his way out (Liam’s, he realized belatedly when the smell of Liam’s sweat and mix of colognes hit him) as low over his face as it would go. 

He couldn’t let anything like this happen again. He’d known, every step of the way, that he should stop, and he hadn’t, and he’d almost lost Liam for good, no doubt.

By the time he got back to his flat, two hours later, every inch of his body hurt, the packet of smokes he’d gone through in the hopes of getting rid of his rising headache had only left him nauseated and with a sore throat, and his heart hurt in a way he’d forgotten how to deal with. There was no message on either of his phones, and he went to sleep on his couch, wrapped up in Liam’s sweater, aching and alone.

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Have I screwd this uup? :( :( :(_
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> In which boys learn to use their words, because everyone hates miscommunication.

# CHAPTER NINE

  
  


_Have I screwd this uup? :( :( :(_

The text message popped up on Louis's cell phone three days later, at 7 in the morning. It was the first sign of life from Liam since the incident; not that Louis had reached out to him, either, holing up in his flat and trying to pretend that everything was alright, that drinking beer for breakfast was something normal people did, that sleeping with the telly on because he couldn’t stand to be left alone with his thoughts was something he’d always done. He didn't sleep much, anyway, afraid of the dreams he had when he did. He couldn’t decide if the ones in which the band never came back because of him were worse than the ones in which he found himself crawling into Liam's bed, tugging his clothes away and sucking on his cock till he was breathless with it, Liam's hands firm on his shoulders and in his hair, keeping him in place.

Louis stared at his phone for some time, tempted to ignore the message, delete it, but he couldn’t really do that to Liam. And to be honest… he was curious. Because among all the things Liam could have written to him, this one hadn't seemed like a possibility.

_What d'you mean?_

_U rann awqy_

_Im sorry wont do ot agqin_

_Im such a dumnass im sorry_

Louis blinked, static filling his brain from the shock of it. Liam’s erratic spelling notwithstanding, those messages sounded uncannily like the ones Louis had considered sending _him_.

_What are you on about?_ he typed back with shaking fingers. Something that felt suspiciously like hope was uncurling deep inside of him and he didn’t know how to stop it.

_U were hard too anf i thought..._

_im reallly sorry pls letm make thid right_

“How much have you had to drink?” Louis asked three seconds later, barely conscious of the fact he’d hit Call.

“Not that much,” Liam said in the receiver, sounding much more clear headed than Louis had been led to expect from his texts. He also sounded weary, and sad. 

Louis hugged his knees to his chest, sitting in his bed in the pale early morning light. “Liam-”

“I'm sorry I tried to feel you up,” Liam interrupted, the words rushing out. “I just… I really thought maybe you wanted me to. God, Lou, I don't-”

“Why would you think I wanted you to?” Louis had meant to say ‘You tried to feel me up?’ but somehow this was what came out. The silence on the other end of the phone was like a punch in the gut and Louis pressed his face against his knees, scrunching his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he said before Liam could say anything or hang up on him. “That was a shit thing to say. I didn’t mean… Fuck.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Lou.”

Louis wanted to bash himself over the head with the nearest heavy object. _Liam_ was afraid of losing _him_?!

“I wanted to kiss you,” he blurted out. “In your kitchen. I wanted to kiss you so badly and I… fuck, I just couldn’t take it, could I? Had to get the fuck out.” He kept his eyes shut, feeling bile rising up in his throat, or maybe those were tears, he had no idea. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, Li.”

There was no response from Liam, and after a few agonizing seconds Louis raised his head up and looked down at his phone screen. “Payno? Are you still there?”

“D'you know the only thing I've been thinking about since this stupid break started?”

“What?” Louis said, slightly taken aback by this abrupt shift in the discussion.

“How much I hate it. I've been hating every fucking second of it that I didn't spend with you. At first I thought it was just that I missed horsing around, but then you visited, and I… every time you left, it was like I couldn't breathe.”

Hearing Liam say all the things Louis had worked so hard not to think about was like an out-of-body experience. “Yeah,” he said, eloquently, poking at a cigarette hole in his fancy sheets. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“I want you,” Liam said, voice firm in that way it got whenever Liam was extra-nervous and determined to hide it. “I’ve wanted you for a while and I really don’t want to pretend like I don’t anymore.”

It was Louis’s turn to be speechless. He had half a mind to pinch himself to make sure he was awake, but the loud gurgle his stomach gave right at that moment was proof enough. 

He heard a surprised chuckle down the line. “Hungry?”

“Clearly my life can be turned upside down but my stomach knows where its priorities are at,” Louis said, mortified.

“What time is it in London, anyway?”

Louis's heart dropped. He had kinda hoped he could just hop in his car and deal with this face to face, but clearly Liam wasn’t in England. He needed to see him to make sure this wasn't just his brain fucking with him. “It’s 7.15. Where you at then?”

“L.A.,” Liam said, almost apologetically. “I needed to get away for a while…”

“Sounds familiar.” Louis sighed. God, he’d made a mess of everything. If he hadn’t bolted like an idiot three days before, maybe-

“I'll be back on the day of the Brits.” 

Right, the Brit Awards. With everything that had happened Louis had clean forgotten about them. A high-end industry event with hundreds of cameras pointed their way was not exactly how Louis would have envisioned their reunion to go.

He wanted to ask Liam to come back sooner, but bit his tongue. He was in no position to demand anything from him, and knowing that Liam would say yes straight away only made him feel guiltier.

“I know it's in three days, but… Maybe I could-” Liam started, as always guessing exactly what Louis had been thinking.

“Nah, don't shorten your stay for me. What are you up to?” Louis asked, trying to find solid ground in a conversation that felt like shifting sands.

“Got a meeting with Julian at 10.”

“Julian? Are you writing songs behind my back, Payno?” Louis teased, but Liam's silence took him aback. “... Are you?” 

The familiar sense of betrayal reared its ugly head. He knew he was being stupid. They'd written songs on their own before... it just didn't happen often.

“I just… I didn't think I could… I was afraid it'd be too obvious if I showed you the lyrics,” Liam stammered.

Louis opened his mouth, then closed it. He thought back to Paris, Liam sitting cross-legged on the floor, typing on his phone like his life depended on it, and the way he’d looked like a deer caught in headlights when Louis had asked him what he was working on. He gaped. “Are you writing a song about _me_?”

“... maybe.”

Louis didn't try to stop himself from beaming; after all there was no one there to see him. “I can't believe you're writing a song about me,” he said, leaning back against the headboard with a smug smile. “So what's it like then? A little bittersweet, like Home, or do I get a No Control?”

“You're such an arsehole.” Liam’s voice was dripping with fondness, so Louis decided to let it slide. Truth be told he couldn't quite believe Liam was being serious with this song business. He wished he'd snooped, back in Paris. He really wanted to know what the lyrics might be like. “If you're done gloating, I’d better go to sleep,” Liam continued, and Louis’s hand reflexively clenched around his phone, as if this would keep Liam on the line.

“Oh, alright,” he said, trying to sound as detached as possible, which probably wasn’t that detached at all and more like crazy-needy.

“We’ll see each other in three days,” Liam said, sounding as if he was saying it for his own benefit as much as for Louis’s.

“Yeah, so, um, just to be clear, what happens in three days? With us, I mean,” Louis asked, hating himself for it but needing to know where he was standing. There was still a possibility he’d somehow gotten the whole thing wrong, and he wasn’t about to spend three more days torturing himself about it.

There was silence yet again for a few excruciating seconds before Liam cleared his throat. “Well, I guess… I mean. Fuck, why is this so hard?!”

Louis smiled, relieved it wasn’t just him. “Will there be snogging?” he asked as offhandedly as possible, making a silent prayer for it to be the right question, “because I’m quite keen on there being snogging, if I’m honest.”

“Fuck, me too,” Liam breathed, and Louis felt something hot settle in the pit of his stomach.

“And groping, I could do with some groping,” Louis said, stretching one leg out and laying a hand on his thigh. His dick was taking an interest.

“Yeah, groping is definitely on my list.” Liam sounded tense, and Louis decided to go for broke.

“I guess phone-sex _would_ be a bit too hasty, right?”

There was a spluttering sound down the line and Louis wished more than ever that he could see Liam's face.

“Yeah, maybe… maybe let's wait a bit for that,” Liam said, clearly flustered but also quite clearly turned on. “There's things I'd rather do to you than talk about,” he added after a beat, voice low and smooth, and Louis felt his cheeks heat up. Damn it, he hadn't expected him to rally so fast.

“What kinds of things?”

“Told you, I'd rather show you.” Liam had never used his sexy voice on Louis before, at least never without jesting. It was quite an experience. Louis pressed the heel of his hand down against his half-hard cock, trying not to moan.

“Three days, uh?” he asked, feeling a bit light-headed.

“Three days,” Liam repeated, sounding slightly short of breath. Louis’s brain conjured a remarkably vivid picture of Liam sitting in his bed, one hand on his cock, slowly pumping up and down, and he bit on his lip hard enough to sting. Phone sex sounded more tempting by the second.

“Alright!” he said, voice slightly hysterical. “Better turn in and get some strength, Payno. You'll need it on Saturday.”

“Yeah?” Liam asked, voice barely above a whisper. His breathing had gotten heavy enough that Louis could hear it.

“Fuck are you touching yourself?” Louis blurted out, fingers clenching around the girth of his cock but not moving.

There was a shuddering breath. “... No, but I really want to.”

“Fuck.” Louis let his head fall back against his headboard, counting to ten in his head. They didn’t have time for this now. He wasn’t sure he wanted his first orgasm with Liam to happen on the phone, anyway.

“I should… I should get to sleep,” Liam said when Louis had gotten to ten, sounding like he, too, had been calming himself down.

Louis looked at his bedside clock. 7.30. He might as well get up. “You do that. I’ll go… do stuff.”

“Alright. … good night, then. Or I mean, I guess it’s good day for you.”

“Good night, Payno.”

Louis paused, ready to say another inanity, then abruptly hung up. If they started stalling they'd still be on the phone by the time they saw each other again.

\--

_This conversation reallly happend right?_

The message came ten minutes later. Louis had been looking at pictures of Liam, trying to convince himself that it had, indeed, happened. And possibly trying to decide on which part of Liam's body he was going to leave a love bite first, alright. A morning wank was _definitely_ on the cards.

_Which conversation?_

_Arse._

_That's what you get for not agreeing to phone-sex._

There was nothing for five minutes. Then a picture popped up, and Louis almost dropped his phone.

_You're a monster_ , he sent back once his brain started working again.

_xx_

  
  



End file.
